


Don't Shoot The Albatross

by GypsumLilac



Series: Finished Works [2]
Category: Mafiafell - Fandom, Mobfell - Fandom, Underfell - Fandom, Undertale
Genre: 1950s, Alcohol Abuse, Death, Eventual BDSM, Eventual Smut?, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, It's done, Multi, Named Reader, Non-binary Reader - Freeform, Other, Power Play, Praise Kink, Reader is OC, Reader is not a good person, Self-Indulgent, Underfell AU, Violence, addiction to danger, based on someone else's fic, fake-dating, mafiafell, more or less, new chapter is troll, sadomasochist Reader, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2019-11-21 20:35:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 29,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18147107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GypsumLilac/pseuds/GypsumLilac
Summary: *Based on and inspired by "Don't Shoot The Messenger" by SixthSeason, definitely check that out, cause it's great!! If you want to join SixthSeason‘s discord server, here ya go, https://discord.gg/pqwGBAp*Papyrus needs a mole with influence in the police force. You need a date to your cousin's wedding.Papyrus needs information. You need information.Your aunt is the mayor. Papyrus wants political influence.Until he has no more use for you-Until you have no more use for him-Looks like you're dating a skeleton.The last chapter is the ending. It is not meant to be taken seriously.





	1. Awaiting Your Mistake

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Don't Shoot the Messenger](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16574081) by [SixthSeason](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SixthSeason/pseuds/SixthSeason). 



> *Based on and inspired by "Don't Shoot The Messenger" by SixthSeason, a Sans/OC fic with plenty of sexual tension and violence :D it's cool! Go check it out! ALSO CHECK OUT THEIR DISCORD SERVER BECAUSE THEY ARE AN AMAZING PERSON!! https://discord.gg/pqwGBAp*
> 
> Also thank you to SixthSeason for helping me with characterization and beta-reading and being awesome in general! Ya'll should read their work and go join them in their discord server! :D 
> 
> I wrote this in 2nd person instead of 3rd because it's easier to write for me, I've just gotten into the habit of it. :P
> 
> Warnings: some transphobia/homophobia. Lots of violence.
> 
> Edited slightly since it was posted. I'll probably keep going back and editing it whenever I find problems.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Major edit: dividing the chapters so they're easier to digest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> think it's ready to be posted :D if I find any problems, I'll edit it.
> 
> Chapter titles are from random songs, but mostly from "The Wolf" by SIAMES

The dusk claws orange streaks in the sky, shadows battling light for dominance and winning. You sigh, watching through the window as the night life peeks up from the gutters of people-kind and starts to rustle around in the sewage of life. If only you could be down there, enjoying the shit and piss of what people call fun. It's more fun than this sanitary prim and proper environment you're trapped in, forced to tune out another one of your godly aunt's dressing downs, reprimanding you for smoking and drinking, praying at you to change from your rebellious ways. And what business is it of hers if you do smoke?? If you do prefer the company and pleasure of men over women?? You're not a man, anyway. Not a lady, either.

She threatens again to shave off your dusky-gold wavy hair, the only part of yourself you really like. You grin at her and deflect the conversation to your cousin's upcoming wedding. Anything to dissuade her. Your cousin's fucking wedding is near the bottom of the list of things you like talking about. Mostly since your aunt uses it to once again reinforce her beliefs that men should marry women, and none of that 'confusion'. You're lucky she thinks your androgynous expression is just a phase. Heh. You're luckier than your poor cousin... he still hasn't told his aunt he's gay. And he's marrying the man of his dreams. (She knows about the part where his fiancé is a man, it's _your cousin's_ gender she doesn't know about. She also doesn't know about the part where his fiancé is a queen). And that the two will be "switching" marital customs; your cousin Aleksander will be showing up in a tuxedo and his bridegroom will show up in a high-low dress. You've seen it. It's gonna look fucking amazing and your aunt is going to die of shame. Serves her right. 

You finally manage to escape from her clutches with an unfelt apology and the promise to show up to said wedding with a date. Because of course~~ she'd want you to be a proper _gentleman_ and bring a lady to the big flashy event. No way. Unless you liked said lady as a friend, in which case it might be okay. Hmm... you start ticking off lady friends in your head who might possibly go with you. There... are none.

You're just walking down the street, not really paying much attention to where you're going, when you hear a crack. _Gunfire_. Immediately a thrill runs through your spine and you run towards the crack, pulling your own revolver. A spidery-looking monster lurks in the shadows of an alley, facing down a tall skeleton monster. The spider has two humans flanking the skeleton. The skeleton has a club in his hand and powerful intent flooding the air. One of his arms dangles at an awkward angle. You pause, hidden in cover, and watch the proceedings, trying to pick up on what's going on.

From the cases and research you've done, you know the spider monster is part of a gang that runs a small joint downtown, just outside of the larger Syndicate's territory. Her name is Sia and she has a criminal record as long as your arm. Just goes to show she's dumb enough to get caught. And the skeleton... has to be someone in the Syndicate. You've never seen him before, only heard whispers, rumors that a skeleton works in the Scintillating Skeletal Syndicate (more commonly known as the Boneheads), and that he's an absolute bastard.

The humans charge for the skeleton, but he easily knocks them back, grinning as though he's only warming up. Hmm... you think the skeleton has a handle on things. You should do the smart thing and leave before anyone notices you.

But you've been bored lately. And your aunt hasn't helped matters. So you step out of cover and fire at Sia, ducking back into cover before the humans can fire back. Sia hisses and clatters towards you; you fire at her again and then she shatters in a pile of dust as a thicket of jagged bones spears up from the ground. You nod to the skeleton and then fire at one of the humans. They cry out as the bullet punches through their shoulder. The skeleton knocks the other human out as they try to escape, and then you step up to the wounded human and aim at their head as they beg with their eyes. "Want I should end them, sire?" You snarl cheerfully, directing the question and honorific to the skeleton. _It just feels natural, like you've always been calling him that._

His club rests on your shoulder, then draws away as though preparing to strike, a cold scowl on his face. "NAME."

Oh no. No, you are not doing this. You bring your gun up to aim at him, backing away, a cold thrill in your bones. "I think you've got that the wrong way 'round. Name." You demand.

"YOU REALLY THINK YOUR PUNY BULLETS WILL HURT ME??" He steps forward slowly, you step back slowly. "TELL ME WHO YOU ARE OR YOU'LL BE BOUND WITH THESE OTHER MISCREANTS AND INTERROGATED IN A LESS _INVITING_ ENVIRONMENT. YOU ARE FORTUNATE I DO NOT HAVE MY OWN FIREARM AT THE MOMENT..."

"I just helped you." You remind. "You should be a bit more grateful..."

"GODDAMNED INGRATE, TELL ME YOUR FUCKING NAME OR DIE. I'M LOSING PATIENCE." He slams the club at your shoulder, but you dodge it, forced to back away again. A cold brick wall meets your back. Shit.

You fire at his knee. "Sorry, sire..." He balances on one leg and strikes at you again. You duck. "Here. I'll make you a deal. I'll tell you my name if you tell me your name." You have no intention of upholding your end of the deal. This is so much fun!

"NO DEAL. YOU KNOW MY NAME AND I'M THE ONE TAKING NAMES AND KICKING ASS." He snarls.

"Your prisoners are escaping." You note drily. But he doesn't even turn to look, instead thick bones are summoned from thin air to knock the two humans out again. A chill coalesces in your gut. He... he isn't even trying... "Sh-Shura. Shura Lutsenko." You admit before he can strike again.

The skeleton pulls a cup from nothing and swallows the contents. His wounds, the dangling arm and the broken leg, heal instantly, proven by how he puts weight on the leg and stretches the arm. "THERE. THAT WASN'T SO HARD, WAS IT... NOW IF YOU TELL ANYBODY ABOUT THIS, I WILL HEAR, AND YOU WILL BE TRACKED DOWN AND KILLED." Of course you _had_ to help the syndicate member... when will you learn?? Never, probably, it's just too exhilarating to quit your addiction to danger now.

Wait... Why is he giving you this chance?? He's technically letting you off easy, as you are a witness... "You _are_ grateful!" You crow, then turn and run before he can say anything more.

A wall of bones blocks your path. You stop short and swallow uneasily, turning back to face him. "I DON'T REMEMBER SAYING YOU COULD GO." He says coldly. "WE'RE NOT DONE YET. I NEED ASSURANCE THAT YOU WON'T JUST SPILL YOUR PATHETIC GUTS TO THE FIRST POLICE OFFICER YOU FIND. TELL ME ABOUT YOUR FAMILY."

Aww, shit, if you tell him your aunt is the mayor... he'll probably flip. Or think you're lying. Or both... Hmm... who can you throw under the bus... not your cousin, he's getting married.

There isn't really any other family, though. Nobody you know, at least.

"U-uh... Gerald...? Gerald Lutsenko... is- is my father?" You make up a random name. He doesn't have to know till after you're gone and safe in your hideout.

Papyrus shakes his head, grinning. "WRONG ANSWER." And a bone crashes down at your head; you dodge, barely, and it hits your shoulder instead with a crack of blinding pain. "I'M DISAPPOINTED. YOU SEEMED INTERESTING. BUT YOU'RE JUST LIKE EVERYONE ELSE... A LIAR, A RAT..." You grip your throbbing shoulder, tears stinging your eyes.

" _Sorry_ , I don't know any family. None that I _like,_ anyway." You spit. "So go ahead, knock me out and torture me. All I was tryna do was _help_ , you fucking jerk. How am I supposed to know you're working in the syndicate, anyway?? For all I know, you're a random passerby who got jumped and you killed in self-defense!"

Papyrus's eyes appraise you. "HMM. YOU'RE RIGHT. THAT'S ALL THIS WAS." Oh? Will he actually let you go now?

"Y-yeah! And I just stepped in to shoot that human, you had it all under control. That's the truth I know, anyway." You continue, hoping to placate him.

He scowls again. "BUT THEN... ONE QUESTION REMAINS... WHY _DID_ YOU STEP IN?? WHY WOULD A CIVILIAN TRY TO HELP THE BOSS OF THE SCINTILLATING SKELETAL SYNDICATE??"

The... heh... what?? You cover your confusion with bravado. "Cause I wanted fun, that's all." _Damn, he's the actual BOSS?? How's he stay out of trouble?? The boss is an actual fucking skeleton??_ "Just like the, eh, adrenaline rush." Your hands are sweaty. You wipe them on your pants, realizing too late that you dropped your gun some time in the one-sided fight.

His gaze pierces you, ripping your bravado to shreds. "WELL... YOU ARE NOT LYING... I SUPPOSE I WILL BE MERCIFUL AND ALLOW YOU TO ESCAPE. WE'LL BE WATCHING YOU. DON'T MAKE ANY WRONG MOVES."

You back away nervously. "You, uh, you got it. Nobody hears a word from me..." Then you turn tail and run.

You've got a lot of fucking research to do on the Syndicate...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Thanks!


	2. Fire Away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> violence...

The police commissioner's death was the best fucking thing to ever happen to you. The bastard was always so fake, inviting people of influence to his mansion and crushing lowly private eyes like you under his boot... so who cares if you've edited your job description slightly to be indistinguishable from that of a vigilante's?? You have _fun_. And that's all that matters. That, and destroying fuckers who think they can get away scot free... heh. You enjoy that a bit too much. The commissioner never approved. You're glad he's dead.

The only concerning thing about the bastard's death is that the syndicate's territory and influence has been expanding in leaps and bounds. You started investigating and tracking down leads to see if you could cut them back a while ago, before your meeting with Papyrus, the boss of the Syndicate. Heh. You still have trouble believing he didn't kill you, after what you’ve learned about him. He must have been in a good mood...

You nurse a glass of the strong stuff at Anita's bar, a day after meeting the Boss; Clover’s is your favorite place to go and a known haunt of the Syndicate. Sitting at the most secure booth in the joint, you're positioned to observe the door, the bar, and the bathrooms. Nobody can sneak up on you. Surprises (and being trapped) are about the only dangerous things you _don't_ find fun at all. Anita catches your eye and waves you over. Eh, what's the harm, she probably wants to introduce you to new friends. That's always... kinda fun... When you're in the mood to enjoy it, that is. Right now, you're not really, but you go over anyway because you're buzzing with excitement and the lack of consequences.

And then you see the two people Anita wants to introduce to you... they both look... familiar. You don't trust them.

"Hey, sugar," Anita smiles and you grin back. "These two lovelies want a run down of the best drinks..." The code for 'I don't trust them, get them out of here'. Good to see Anita has the same gut feeling about them...

"Hey." You hold out your hand to one of the police officers. Because that's what they are, albeit in disguise. "Jasal, at your service." You use one of your many alternate names, unwilling for anyone to find out you're a private eye, (especially Anita, this bar is practically owned by the Syndicate, maybe even literally). "You fellows have a craving for anything in particulars?"

The police officers look you up and down without moving. Their stances are strong, ready for a fight. They... are really bad at under cover. You slink onto a seat and pat the stool next to you, aware that the door is at your back. You don't particularly like the police. Especially not after your little discovery. Lucky for you, you have the talent to make anybody's life miserable.

You go to work on the two, telling jokes to relax them, then throwing in hints that you know they're up to something to make them go on guard again. One of them catches on and sits down, joining the game with all the awkwardness of a duckling trying to fly for the first time. The other stands guard.

You get them both drinks, strong drinks. You'll see how long they last. The surly one refuses drink. The jokester takes it and tries to convince Surly to join. Finally, they do, with a long-suffering sigh. _Success._ You nurse your drink, unwilling to get drunk.

It takes a while, a while of you spinning a web of lies, and a while of them getting drunk while listening, drinking almost absently as you describe your "life story", throwing in hints to keep them attentive. And then you pat the one's shoulder with fake concern leaking through your eyes, and you note that they look very drunk indeed.

The two police officers grumble but leave, staggering home. They'll both have a serious hangover, and they didn't get what they came for. You're satisfied with that. Until the next night, when they come back.

They're both angry. You can see that. A thrill of exhilaration fills you. They make a beeline for you, then grab your wrists and drag you out of the bar. You allow it to happen, knowing you can get out of the situation by telling the sheriff you're Shura, the best damn private eye in the city. Anita looks worried, _shouldn't worry over me,_ but you wink at her, as though saying, 'it's all part of the plan'.

You're not exactly sure what you're being arrested for, though. You try to probe jokingly, but neither answers you as they drag you down the street and- into an alley. Wait. Are they police?? You kinda assumed from their bad acting and fun-hating attitudes... But... maybe they were familiar for an entirely different reason.

They throw you onto the ground and you shake to show you're scared. _You're not._ And then they interrogate you. It's rather boring, just stuff about the Syndicate. You lie easily. And then jokester pulls a gun. "Ya killed Sia... yer gonna die." They spit. 

Oh. That's where you've seen them both. "So you escaped with your lives intact, ey?" You tease, loving the way the barrel shines in the distant streetlight as it points down at your leg. "Bet it was painful, though, wanna tell me how painful?"

A crack rings out, drawing a silent choked scream from your lungs as your knee jerks and pain hits like a stabbing hammer blow. "Tell us where Papyrus is. And we'll let you live." The other human's voice fallsdistantly through the pain.

"Heh... how'd you two get- get away from him??" You ask, prepared for the second crack and the pain that sets in your other knee. " _Fuck."_ You hiss, tears running down your cheeks, _damn_. How're you supposed to work on cases now??

The jokester kneels beside you, pressing the barrel of the gun to your shoulder. Terror of more pain clouds your mind, clouds the exhilaration of _living_. "Give it up." 

There's nothing you can do. Nothing but die. And death sounds awfully boring. "You'll never- never get _me_ to talk..." You spit at them. The jokester grins, their finger tightening on the trigger-

You keep your eyes open. A crack rings out and the jokester drops the gun, a hole in their hand and their scream shattering the night. The surly human tries to run, but Papyrus trips them and shoots down into their head. Then he turns to the jokester, who shakes in terror and tries to scrabble away. "HOW DISAPPOINTING. I WAS HOPING FOR A BETTER CHASE THAN THIS." He scowls and shoots the jokester (who wasn't actually that great at jokes).

Your grin wavers as you gaze up at the skeleton, magnificent, powerful, menacing as fuck. "G-guess you have to kill me, too." You say, forcing your voice to remain smooth, because there’s no way in fuck he’s going to let the same witness escape _twice_. "Make it quick."

Papyrus scowls down at you, holstering his gun underneath his jacket. And then he kneels beside you and reaches for your legs. You remain still, trusting him because you have no other choice. Green fire envelops his hands and he presses them to your knees. "WHY? YOU DIDN'T SEE ANY CRIME. YOU WERE BEING ASSAULTED. AND I RESCUED YOU. THE GUARD WHO LET THE CRIMINALS ESCAPE WILL BE PUNISHED. IT ALL SEEMS PERFECTLY NORMAL AND REASONABLE TO ME..."

"Y-yeah, th-that's what- what I saw... 'n pu-punish'em good." You hiss as the pain increases tenfold from the healing magic. "Th-thanks, sire." He doesn't have to do this... so why would he?

"HOWEVER, DO NOT FUCKING TELL ANYBODY ABOUT THIS OR YOU _WILL_ DIE, SHURA."

"I'm as silent as a dead rat." You say. He finishes healing you and stands.

"THAT IS GOOD, BUT I AM NOT IMPRESSED WITH HOW YOU DEALT WITH THIS THREAT. YOU JUST LET YOURSELF BE DRAGGED OFF AND QUESTIONED."

"Thought they were police," You explain. "Wanted to keep them off Anita's back."

His sockets gain an appraising light again as he scans you. "INTERESTING. YOU ARE DOING YOUR PART, SO AS LONG AS YOU CONTINUE TO STAY SILENT, YOU WILL BE UNTOUCHED BY MY PEOPLE. AND YOU OWE ME FOR HEALING YOU." He then stomps off.

You stagger to your feet, painlessly thanks to him, and then drag yourself back to the bar for a strong drink. You need one. 

The days move on. Your aunt bugs you to get a date. Your cousin bugs you to get a date. You have so much going on, you can't think about dating. You've got cases to solve, drinks to have, there's work to be done.

And then you're at the police station for a routine visit to drop off your solved cases for the sheriff to look over, when you hear a familiar voice. "-ILL BRINGING UP THE ZUCCHINI INCIDENT?? THAT WAS NOT MY FAULT EITHER."

You step into the room where the police have Papyrus handcuffed to a chair, a bright light shining in his face. The two officers acknowledge you with groans. "Oh, great, it's the brat."

"You fellows need assistance?" You ask sweetly. "Why do you have my datemate arrested?" Establish the relationship so that you can bail him out. Hope he plays along. He’s more useful to you free and on the streets. If he gets arrested, his syndicate might think you spilled the beans… that isn’t a pleasant thought.

"Oh, this bastard is _your_ boyfriend?? Tell us what he was doing near the crime scene. Three days ago, around seven." The officer smirks, thinking he's got you.

"He was going to meet me at the bar, but we had to cancel when we heard the gunshots." You say smoothly, then rest a hand on his pauldron. He's tense.

"Y-YES. WE HID OUR RELATIONSHIP... FOR THEIR REPUTATION." Papyrus says. Clever skeleton.

"Wouldn't want it being known that the best _private_ _eye_ in the city is dating a monster," You simper. Papyrus is really tense, you're not sure it's good for anybody to be so tense. You rub circles in his armor on his back. The armor is soft and gives under your fingers, almost like a chitinous tough fabric. The officers look weirded out. 

"O-okay... that matches... uh... your story." One officer says to Papyrus.

Luh-cky! "Can you let him out?" You pout. "We were going on a date tonight."

"Alright, I suppose you can go." They unlock the cuffs and you grab Papyrus's hand, practically dragging him out of the police station. As soon as the station is out of sight, he twists your wrist to make you let go.

"GOOD JOB IN THERE, BUT YOU STILL OWE ME, I DIDN'T HAVE TO HEAL YOU, I COULD HAVE LET YOU DIE..."

"Technically that was you paying me back for helping kill Sia..." You wheedle. "And they were _your_ prisoners. So it doesn't count."

He glares at you. "SO YOU DID THIS TO GET ME IN YOUR DEBT?? WHAT IS IT YOU REQUIRE? SINCE YOU HAVE BEHAVED, I WILL CONSIDER HAVING MERCY ON YOU AND GRANTING A BOON..."

"Be my date." You say, suddenly struck with the most fun idea ever. Your aunt won't have a chance to get mad over who's wearing the dress and who's wearing the tux. Heh heh. She'll be too busy having a conniption over the monster attendee...

Papyrus, however, is looking back at you with the most shocked disgusted face. "EXCUSE YOU?? HOW DARE YOU ASSUME THAT YOU ARE ANY MATCH FOR MY GREATNESS!! I SHOULD KILL YOU NOW FOR YOUR INSOLENCE!" His hand goes under his coat, where you know his gun is holstered.

"Wait, no, I- I meant fake! Fake date. For... my cousin's wedding..." You explain. "I have to bring a date... and y'know, this could be useful for you, I could help with... uh..." You're suddenly frightened when you process that his sockets have gained a crafty light.

"DIDN'T YOU SAY YOU WERE A PRIVATE EYE?" He asks, and his tone would be almost nice if it weren't for the greedy glint. _He already knew, didn’t he..._ You nod, thrilled, believing you're about to die. "WELL THEN. I THINK THIS CHANGES THINGS _SIGNIFICANTLY_ , SHURA..." He purrs, taking your arm in his and starting down the street. "OF COURSE I WILL COME TO THE WEDDING WITH YOU, AND I'LL DO YOU ONE BETTER. WE'RE GOING TO DEVELOP OUR RELATIONSHIP UP TO THE WEDDING- WHEN IS IT??" You tell him it's in six months, slightly shellshocked. "YES, FOR SIX MONTHS WE SHALL PRETEND TO DATE, AND IN RETURN YOU MAKE  YOURSELF USEFUL... VERY USEFUL INDEED. WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME THIS SOONER??"

Of course you'd be useful to him. A private eye? Working for the strongest syndicate in the city? It's a no brainer. You have access to police records, you have influence and pull with the police and politicians, even the mayor, since she's your _bleh_ aunt.

"Yeah, well, all you had to do was a bit of research." You snark at him.

“I DID. YOU’RE ONE OF THE _BEST_ PRIVATE EYES… NYEH HEH HEH… AND NOW YOU WORK FOR _ME_.”

You have nothing to lose. Except your reputation. Your life. Your freedom. Okay, so strike that, you have everything to lose, and that's what decides for you. _This'll be a super awesome adventure! This is the most exciting thing you’ve ever done._

“Deal!"

 


	3. But You Can't Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> slight misgendering, violence,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Major edit changing some things, I'll be going through the rest and pacing it out more, adding more fluff and character development and (hopefully) tension... the events for the most part will still happen, just farther apart, and there will be more focus on romantic development.

Papyrus takes you to the abandoned park and leans against the railing of the old wooden bridge set precariously over a wide waterfall. "I WON'T BE PAYING YOU TECHNICALLY. THIS IS A PARTNERSHIP, I WILL PROVIDE PROTECTION, GIFTS, AND DATES, WHILE YOU PROVIDE ME WITH DEALING WITH ANY THREATS TO THE SCINTILLATING SKELETAL SYNDICATE, PUTTING MY PEOPLE INTO POSITIONS WHERE THEY CAN HAVE INFLUENCE AND SPY, AND USING YOUR INFLUENCE AND SKILLS TO GET MY PEOPLE OUT OF TROUBLE IN GENERAL.

"THEREFORE, OUR RELATIONSHIP WILL OPERATE ON FAVORS. I DO A FAVOR FOR YOU, YOU REPAY IT. YOU DO FAVORS FOR ME, I REPAY YOU."

"...wow, you've really thought this through??" You're slightly amazed, and still in a state of shock. Exactly how long has he been planning to use you??

"INTUITION, MY DEAR SHURA. I KNEW IMMEDIATELY WHAT WE WOULD DO AS SOON AS YOU MENTIONED FAKE DATING." There's a twitch in his jaw, as though his scowl is hiding an arrogant smirk. "BUT. I MUST STIPULATE A FEW RESTRICTIONS TO KEEP MYSELF AND MY SYNDICATE SAFE."

"Fair enough." You say.

"NO REPORTERS, AND NO POLICE." He growls. "IF YOU TRY TO SPRING ANY ON ME, THE DEAL'S OFF AND YOU DIE."

"I can help you avoid them," You sigh, you love playing with reporters and you bet their reaction to Papyrus as your boyfriend would be hilarious... but you'd rather keep your head.

"GOOD. YOU ALSO WILL NOT HARM ANYONE IN MY SYNDICATE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION, UNLESS THEY TRY TO HARM YOU FIRST, IN WHICH CASE YOU MAY DEFEND YOURSELF."

"And?" You encourage him to continue.

"AND DO NOT TAKE ANY LIBERTIES WITH ME. I AM NOT YOUR EQUAL, I AM YOUR SUPERIOR IN EVERY REGARD, AND YOU WILL TREAT ME AS SUCH."

You muffle a scoff, hiding it as a cough. "Y-yeah," _right._ You struggle to keep a straight face. "Since you're so... _superior_ , uh, why would you be worried about me daring to take liberties...??"

"BECAUSE I DON'T TRUST YOU." He replies without hesitation. "YOU MIGHT FIND IT HARD TO ADMIT TO YOURSELF, IN YOUR FOOLISH HUMAN PRIDE, BUT I AM INDEED THE GREATEST AND YOU WOULD DO WELL TO REMEMBER IT."

A grin cracks on your face, this guy is... _adorable_. "I have a few stipulations of my own..."

"VERY WELL. WHAT ARE THEY?" He says.

"If you decide to kill me, tell me why and give me a chance to persuade you otherwise." You start on the most important one.

Papyrus considers this for a moment, then nods. "I WILL LET YOU ATTEMPT TO DO SO. YOU WILL NOT DIE FOR NO REASON."

"And you can't take liberties with me, either, or I'll fight you." You threaten. Papyrus doesn't hide his scoff of amusement, which pricks you. 

"YOU'D FIGHT _ME_?? YOU WOULD LOSE!! BUT DO NOT WORRY, I WILL NOT TOUCH YOU, FOR I AM AN HONORABLE GENTLEMAN."

"Also, who's deciding the equivalent exchange? Who decides how much each favor is worth, how much it requires in reciprocation?" You ask.

Papyrus smirks. "THAT WOULD BE ME, OBVIOUSLY. BUT I AM FAIR AND JUST. I WILL NOT SHORTCHANGE YOU."

"Seems like you're getting the most benefit out of this..." You say, hiding the fact that the potential for excitement more than makes up for the obvious discrepancy.

"YES, THAT WOULD BE CORRECT... IF YOU WEREN'T FORGETTING ONE SLIGHT THING..." He says ominously.

You grin, guessing already what he's going to say. "And what's that??"

"I AM ALLOWING YOU TO KEEP YOUR LIFE AND HEALTH INTACT..."

####

You work through a couple cases afterwards and then move onto the first test assignment Papyrus gave you, getting a certain police officer suspended, if not fired. It's not hard to find dirt on her. You compile the information and decide to leak it to a journaling agency you know.

The phone rings, shattering the peace of your office (the living/bed room of your two room apartment). "Lutsenko Agency," you answer.

"Dearest Vladimir, you must tell Auntie _why_ I am hearing rumors of you _dating a beast_!!" Her voice makes you feel physically ill.

Damn her. "I'm... I'm in love." You say, the words dry and meaningless. "He's not a beast, Nadia. He's my lover and he's wonderful." And a glint of anger almost sneaks through.

"..." She's stunned silent, despite your terrible acting.

"I'll be bringing him to my cousin's wedding." You say, biting back a vicious laugh.

"N-no." She says finally. "You. You will _not_ show up with a _beast_! You will not come _at_ _all_ if you insist on _defiling_ my name like this!"

You can see a million reasons for this frankly expected reaction to end the new partnership between you and Papyrus. _Lack of political influence means he has no use for you, and she can cut some, if not all, of your connections._ "Now, Auntie, I'm sure you'll like him when you meet him... And I am coming to the wedding unless Al-... my cousin says so. Don't get mad, Auntie-"

"Don't... Don't get _mad??_ " She rages. It stirs up your own fury, but you bury it, forcing yourself to remain cheerful.

"Think about it. This is a political maneuver. More and more people are voting pro-monster. Think of the election coming up. The votes you could win if you accepted a family member dating a monster..."

"...Darling~! You thought of me~!" She cries joyfully. "Of course I'd be accepting of you dating a monster! As long as you dump it after the election, we'll have no problems!"

"Precisely my thoughts, Auntie..." Your grin falters as you hear something at the window. When you look out, twin red glowing lights stare back. Your hand goes to your side, expecting and missing the leather grip of your gun. "I'll... call you back. Bye." She makes an aborted noise of protest as you place the phone back in its holder and sidle carefully to the kitchen.

The twin glowing lights disappear. You aren't reassured, continuing to the kitchen and grabbing a paring knife from the table.

"heh. ya think that'll help?" A rumbling low voice says from the living room. You turn and glare at the intruder. He's big. That's the first thing you note. The second is that he's a skeleton. And he has a gun trained on your chest. "drop the knife, lover kid."

You place the knife back on the table, thrilled and annoyed at the same time. "I'm under protection." You bluff. "There'll be a bunch of people after your ass if you kill me." You think he might be someone sent to watch you, but you need to be sure, in case he's from a rival gang. (Although he does look familiar, haven't you seen him at Anita's bar some nights?)

"heh. boss told me about yer little _arrangement_. he ain't too sure where yer loyalties lie, though... guess we know now. yer just usin' the boss, ain't ya..." His skeletal grin widens.

You shrug. "He's using me, I'm using him, what's it to you??"

"i'm his brother." He says as though it's supposed to scare you.

You frown. "Why're you the one watching me, then? Wouldn't it be smarter to send a crony?"

Sans glances away for a moment. "heh... uh..."

"Unless you're not here to do that... and your brother doesn't _know_ you're here." You pull out a chair and sit down. "Look, honestly? I fucking hate my aunt. I just told her that crap so our _little_ _arrangement_ isn't threatened by her throwing a hissy fit and taking away my privileges and influence. Win-win."

"oh... oops..." He says to himself. "boss didn't... exactly clarify... what _kind_ of relationship you're having with him." 

"Oh. So... you came to give me the 'brother talk'."

"maybe...?" He scratches the back of his skull.

You grin and lean on the table. You can use this. "Sit down. Talk."

That is how you end up explaining the terms and conditions of the relationship to Papyrus's older brother, Sans. He takes it pretty well, and then grabs a bottle of mustard from the cupboard and drinks it straight. Interesting... you should make some spiked mustard... see how talkative he gets when drunk- see what information he knows about the Syndicate... _On second thought, maybe not, you don't really want to piss off his brother._

"okay, i'm ok with this." He says after gulping the mustard down. "just don't hurt him and everything will be just fine."

"Me?? Hurt _him_?? He's indomitable." You growl, annoyed. "I'd have to poison him or something... maybe knife him too... but does poison even work on monsters...?" And then you realize it might not be the best idea to consider possible ways to kill Papyrus right in front of his brother. "Sorry, habit."

"yeah, sure. papyrus can handle himself. i wouldn't advise poison, though, it... has a nasty way of backfiring..." His grin widens, both lights twinkling. "and a knife... now that's just asking to have it turned on you."

Your phone rings. You go to it and answer, "Lutsenko agency."

"WHERE THE HELL IS SANS??"

You cover the mouthpiece and mouth to Sans, 'Papyrus'. His grin tightens, seeming a bit apprehensive. He shakes his head.

"Sorry, who's Sans?" Uncovering the mouthpiece, you grin.

"HE'S MY SCOUNDREL OF A BROTHER. YOU'RE TELLING ME HE DID NOT GO AFTER YOU??"

"Eh, why would he go after me?"

"BECAUSE I TRIED TO EXPLAIN YOUR STATUS AND HE DISAPPEARED BEFORE I COULD FINISH, RIGHT AFTER I MENTIONED YOU BEING MY DATEMATE. HE DOESN'T TAKE KINDLY TO ADMIRERS OF MINE."

"Well then, I have nothing to fear, I don't admire you one bit." You lie cheekily.

"O-OF COURSE YOU DO! EVERYONE ADMIRES ME!! SANS JUST DOES NOT APPRECIATE THE MORE... STALKERY. ADMIRERS. BUT I AM A FULLY GROWN SKELETON AND CAN TAKE CARE OF MYSELF!!"

You banter back and forth with him for a couple minutes more before he says, "NOW CAN YOU GIVE THE PHONE TO SANS, BEFORE I RUN OUT OF PATIENCE?? YOUR LIES TO PROTECT MY BROTHER FROM MY WRATH WERE ADMIRABLE, IF MISGUIDED, AS THERE IS NO NEED FOR SUCH SUBTERFUGE."

"Busted." You tell Sans. He groans and faceplants on the table.

"thanks a lot, he jus' wants ta yell at me." He shuffles over and takes the phone.

You clean up the kitchen as Sans gets yelled at. Then the phone clicks back on its holder, and there's silence. When you look back into the room, it's empty.


	4. Numa Numa

The next days are not too busy, as there aren't many cases to solve at the moment. The police officer gets fired with no hope of working in law enforcement again, and you get a couple more assignments from Papyrus.

One of them might take a while, as he wants a mole in the mayor's staff. The other just involves misleading the police from a crime. Papyrus even gave you a couple suggestions for who you could pin the blame on.

You invite him to the movie theater for the first date, the rare treat of air conditioning calling to you from your un-cooled apartment. He agrees, as long as he can choose the restaurant afterwards.

Cheerfully brave the nasty looks and fear of the other passerby as you walk in beside him. The movie playing isn't all that interesting and you end up making fun of it in whispers to Papyrus, who keeps trying to shush you, his rapt attention on the screen.

When it's over, you say to leave instead of watching the next one, and Papyrus is in agreement, escorting you out. When you're in the street, he turns his frown on you and says, "WHEN I GO TO SEE A MOVIE, SHURA, I GO TO SEE A MOVIE. NOT YOUR COMMENTARY OF EVERYTHING THE MOVIE DID WRONG."

"I'm not blaming you for liking it, I just didn't find it all that good." You say jauntily back.

"WELL THEN, YOU ARE UNCULTURED. IT WAS A MASTERPIECE OF ART." He seems like he could go on ranting about it, and you let him, walking along the road, only piping up with objections every now and then.

Gunfire sends a thrill down your spine, coming from a block away. You break into a run towards it, but are jerked to a halt by a hand catching your jacket. "STEADY, SHURA... ARE YOU SERIOUSLY TRYING TO DITCH ME FOR A FIREFIGHT??" 

You pout, struggling in his grip. "It could be something serious!"

"OR IT COULD BE NOTHING MORE THAN GANGS FIGHTING OVER TURF. LEAVE IT. I HAVE MORE USE FOR YOU ALIVE." He retorts.

"Fine..." You concede defeat. He keeps a hold of your jacket as you follow him to the restaurant.

The waiters are comfortable around Papyrus, despite his being a monster. There are other monster patrons in the restaurant, as well, so it's one of the friendly ones. Some places won't serve them, or serve begrudgingly. You barely pay attention to any of them, while Papyrus acts friendly and cheerful to all, cultivating a separate persona from the rough harsh mafia boss on the streets...

You poke at the pasta Papyrus ordered for the both of you. It's... passable... But your thoughts keep straying to the gunfire, wishing you could be there and be filled with exhilaration and dread... Your foot hurts and you realize you've been spacing out. Also that Papyrus just crushed your foot under his boot. You frown and retaliate by kicking his shin. He smirks and kicks back, probably gently for him but you're sure it'll still leave a bruise.

"You think I'm gonna just take it??" You step on his foot under the table.

"YOU'RE STILL THINKING OF RUNNING OFF..." He says, a hint of annoyance behind his cheerful facade.

"You're still thinking of stopping me..." You retort, not hiding your annoyance. "Fighting is my _life._ "

"IT'LL BE YOUR DEATH IF YOU CONTINUE TO RUSH IN HEADLONG WITHOUT BACKUP OR A PLAN..."

"Like that matters..." You say under your breath, but Papyrus's eyes sharpen.

"I MAY NOT CARE ABOUT YOU, BUT I DO CARE ABOUT MY FAMILY. AND YOU SEEM LIKE YOU COULD BE VERY BENEFICIAL. I WOULD PREFER IF YOU DIDN'T GET YOURSELF KILLED. IF YOU ENDANGER ME AT ALL BY ENDANGERING YOURSELF, THERE WILL BE DIRE CONSEQUENCES... UNDERSTAND??" He applies more strength to crush your foot, making you wince.

"...yes..." You grumble. He lets off the pressure and you hide a frustrated huff in your hand. The pain was helping clear your head... You need a drink after this...

####

You go to Anita's bar at night. You see Sans there with someone who seems to be his spouse or datemate, due to the way they're snuggled under his arm, covered in his coat. Anita's spouse Nails and Nails's best friend Hammer banter with each other at the same table. You wave to them, make a bit of small talk, and then move on to one of the groups you're more comfortable intruding on, a cat monster named Brass, a gelatinous monster named Drew, and a human called Knuckles. 

"Oo, it's Shura," Brass cheers. Knuckles just looks sullen. "Don't worry, honey, Knuckles is just mad he didn't recognize ya." 

"It's my _job_ , Brass, I shoulda known Jasal was a fake name! What if we gave away something incriminating! Then it would be my ass on the line!" Knuckles responds. You laugh at him, unwilling to let him know you were able to use some of his drunken info leaks to solve a few cases (to the Syndicate's detriment, even, but that was before you met Papyrus). 

Drew squelches and says in his magically projected voice, "I'm more interested in their status as the Boss's datemate." You're confused for a moment, having thought Papyrus would have explained to everyone that you're just another asset.

Brass squeals and clutches your shoulders, "You have to tell us!! What's it like! Is... is he _rough_...? EEE!!" She screeches. You almost reach for your gun at the noise, before remembering you still haven't got a new gun after losing your old one. And also there's no actual threat. That too. _Stars_ , you hate acquaintances who think they can nose around in every detail of your life.

"Calm down, no, we haven't had sex. It's not that kind of relationship." You say firmly, hoping to derail the conversation.

"Have you at least kissed??" Brass demands indignantly.

"Yes." You lie, deciding to be petty in revenge for Papyrus not letting you run off to the fight. "It was terrible. How's your boyfriend at kissing, Drew?" You direct the question to the gelatinous blob.

Drew puts off an annoyed aura, his lower half camouflaging against the seat to show he's embarrassed as well. "We do not _kiss_. The mere suggestion of such a meaningless action disgusts me."

"What're his kinks??" Brass demands.

"He likes it when I bake for him..." You lie again, letting a blush heat your face, watching the three as though they're enemies to be taken down.

Brass grimaces. "Ew, thought he'd be into knifeplay or something hot like that, cooking is _boring_."

They continue to grill you, not letting you change the subject for very long. You say as little truth (none, no truth whatsoever) as possible to keep from giving away anything too personal. Years spent kissing up to politicians, (and then, surprisingly, having them kiss up to _you_ ), has trained you well for this. Drew is the only one who seems to catch on, and be displeased, by what you're doing. The other two laugh at him as he starts to ask increasingly annoying questions, with you dodging around them or flat-out refusing to answer.

"Do you love him?" Drew asks finally.

Maybe it's the paranoia bred into you by years of hunting down culprits and almost literally playing the most dangerous game with them, but Drew's aura seems almost like he wants to threaten you, like he wants to do more to make you answer, and that puts you on edge. "No." You answer honestly. "Love comes with time and effort. We've only been dating a few weeks." You politely excuse yourself, leaving the two others to reprove Drew for chasing you off.

You sit down at the counter and ask for a drink. It doesn't matter what kind it is. Anita frowns at you and asks if they were bothering you. You lie and tell her it was fine. But you plan to drown your petty stupidity in alcohol, punish yourself with the coming migraine, and then hope Papyrus never hears that you called him a terrible kisser, among other things.

When you leave the bar to go home that night, staggering and slightly drunk, it takes an embarrassingly long time for you to realize you're being followed. Two blocks, to be exact. You duck into an alley and hide. The follower's footsteps stop outside the alley and they speak in a low voice, "Got you."

The crack of a gun jolts through your senses, the thud of a body on concrete ground, and two new voices.

One you recognize as being Sans's, so you peek out and see your follower's body limp on the ground. "Th-th'nks..." You slur as you emerge from the alley. Sans and his either-datemate-or-spouse frown at you.

"You should be more careful." The human says. "You're lucky we were close behind."

"yeah, 's'not safe. wouldn't want papyrus getting pissed cause his ' _datemate'_ got killed."

You frown, feeling like there's something you should be reprimanding them for. Why? They did just save your life by killing the guy who wanted to kill you...

Ehh... you'll figure it out later.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> slight blood

"WHO WAS THAT FOLLOWING YOU??" Papyrus demands over the phone. "YOU HAD BETTER BE KEEPING YOUR NOSE CLEAN..."

"The only dirt on my nose is the shit of politicians..." You reassure him, holding up your other hand in surrender.

He huffs and you can't tell if it's annoyed or amused. "I CAN'T BELIEVE SANS SHOT THEM WITHOUT EVEN QUESTIONING THE BASTARD..."

That's what was missing. "Sorry... I shoulda realized I was being followed..." Heh. How ironic.

"YOU SHOULDN'T HAVE BEEN DRUNK." He retorts. "I DON'T APPROVE OF THAT HABIT. BUT I SUPPOSE I WILL LET IT GO AS LONG AS YOU PROMISE TO KEEP IT IN CHECK." You're not sure it was the drink's fault...

"Yeah, sure." You lie, then change the subject. "Why don't we have a picnic today in the abandoned park?"

"LET ME THINK... VERY WELL, I SUPPOSE WE MAY. BRING DESSERT AND DRINKS. I WILL BRING THE MAIN COURSE."

You agree, set a place and time to meet, and then say goodbye calmly, hang up, and turn back to your captor with your hands raised. "So? Gonna kill me now or wait till later?" You smile genially at her.

She's a culprit of one of your cases, opium dealer, and wanted for the attempted poisoning of one of her clients. She's stern, a thick woman, no glimmer of any enjoyment in her eyes. "Yer wanted alive, ya lucky bastard."

"So, later then." You shrug. "Okay, works for me..." You approach her, as though to go out the back door. "You might want to take this way, less obvious to police."

She starts to follow you, stupidly lowering the gun, and then you lash out with your foot, striking the gun out of her hands and punching her shoulder. The gun clatters on the ground; she grips her shoulder with a silent gasp and scrambles to get it, but you grab her by the back of her shirt and press your fingers into her throat to cut off the carotid arteries.

The foolish woman continues to try to reach the gun instead of attempting to break your hold, her struggles becoming weaker and weaker until she falls limp. You throw her behind you and then grab the gun before she can wake up, or in case she's pretending. But she doesn't come to for a couple minutes, so you're pretty sure she's just an idiot.

Heh. Papyrus will be so pleased with you... You're rather pleased with yourself. You sit on your couch and watch her with the gun aimed at her chest. She rubs her throat and glares at you, her other hand sneaking to one foot. You don't know if she has another gun or a knife, so you shake your head and motion with the gun.

"Nope. Bad girl." You reprimand. "Very bad girl. My partner is going to be so happy I caught you..." And you reach for the phone.

Her hand snatches for something in her sock, and you shoot her arm. She falls back with an agonized cry, but grabs whatever it was into the other hand- and stuffs it in her mouth.

Stupid, stupid, idiot!! You should have checked!! Too late, though. Now there's blood all over your floor... and foaming spittle. And a writhing body, soon to be dead... You're going to be late for the picnic.

After hauling the body through the secret ways of the city to a random alley, and cleaning up your floor, and baking a pie, you're finally ready... to get dressed. You were in your duck pajamas the whole time.

Hm... put on a dark purple ruffled skirt, and a matching shirt. Then a golden jacket finishes the look. You may not be rich enough to afford a vehicle, but nice clothes are a weakness you will always indulge yourself on. You only have about three outfits, and a few more mix-and-match clothes, but they're all tailored and beautiful. 

Ready, you reach for the holster of your gun- only to realize you still haven't been able to afford one yet. Ugh. You'll have to ask Papyrus for one, you feel naked without a firearm. You stuff a switchblade into the inner pocket of your jacket and head out to the park with your pie.

When you arrive, Papyrus has already set out a blanket on the bridge. "YOU'RE LATE." He says, not hiding his annoyance. "EXPLAIN."

"Eh, I got jumped." You reply nonchalantly. It's no big deal, you're used to it. Papyrus glares at you.

"SERIOUSLY?? I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU-"

"Hey, chill. They escaped, but I know who they are."

Papyrus surges to his feet and stalks towards you, rage flickering in his eyes. "DID YOU JUST TRY TO _LIE??_ TO _ME_??"

You shrug, slightly annoyed with him because of the electric terror swirling in your gut. "Yeah??"

Papyrus stops midstep, confusion flashing across his face at your reaction. "W-WELL, THAT IS UNADVISABLE." He retorts, attempting to regain momentum. "I SUGGEST YOU TELL ME THE TRUTH... UNLESS YOU WISH TO HAVE A FINGER BROKEN!" And succeeding.

"She, uh, she killed herself after I got the advantage and tried to question her..." You admit. "But I took care of the body and made a pie." You offer the pie to him as a peace offering. "Next time someone tries to kill me, I promise to not lie about their untimely death."

A crack rings out and the railing of the bridge explodes in wood splinters. "YOU SEEM TO BE VERY POPULAR ALL OF THE SUDDEN..." Papyrus picks up the blanket, disappearing it into the handy inventory all monsters seem to have... (what, no, you're not jealous at all...) "VERY WELL. I WILL LEAVE YOU TO YOUR ADMIRERS..." 

"Wait!" You cry, before you can stop yourself. Nervous trepidation stings as he levels a glare at you. "Uh..."

He holds up a finger, his hands fisted. "ONE." He starts, timing you. "TWO." Another finger raises.

"She was an opium dealer!" You spit out quickly.

"THREE."

"I don't know why they're after me, honest!"

"FOUR."

"FIVE."

"They're after you!" You say, suddenly realizing.

"SIX..."

"That is, they're after the Syndicate! Not me specifically, but what I mean for you!"

Papyrus pauses and considers you. Another crack. Your shoulder explodes with pain, but it's only a graze. "CONTINUE. ONE." He puts down all except one finger.

"One of your rival gangs thinks I'm actually your datemate? And wants to kill me because they think, mistakenly, that I'm a weakness?"

"TWO. NO, NOBODY KNOWS ABOUT THIS EXCEPT SANS AND SOME OTHER PEOPLE IN THE SYNDICATE."

"Uh..." You dodge just in time as another crack shatters the evening air. "Someone... in your Syndicate..."

"THREE..."

"is a mole... but they got mistaken information!"

"FOUR."

"And they possibly wanted me to become a mole, because she said I was wanted alive." You finish. "Can we please go to my place and eat now? It's kind of tiresome having a picnic while being shot at." 

Papyrus sighs. "YOU WILL FIGURE OUT IF THERE ARE ANY MOLES AND WHO WANTS YOU DEAD. NO LETTING YOUR ATTACKERS DIE NEXT TIME..."

"Yes, okay." You say, relieved that he's not going to just leave you to die. That would be boring. "Thank you, let's go." You start down the bridge but are stopped by his snort of disgust.

"WHERE IS YOUR GUN?? YOU'RE BEING ATTACKED AND FOLLOWED YET YOU DIDN'T BRING ONE??"

Shame flushes your neck with heat. "Uh... I... can't afford one...?"

Papyrus explodes, stomping forward and grabbing your hand to almost literally drag you through the park, ranting the whole time about safety and how reckless your behavior has been. You follow obediently, holding onto your pie for dear life. "WHEN DID YOU LOSE IT??" He demands eventually and, knowing he's going to explode again, you admit it was when you first met him.

He goes into a dangerous silence, stalking through the paths with steady familiarity. "AND..." he finally says in a low tone, "YOU NEVER THOUGHT TO ASK _ME_??"

"I... did..." You don't lie, knowing you're walking on thin ice already. "But I was... unsure. I don't... _like_ asking people for things..."

"I WARNED YOU THERE WOULD BE CONSEQUENCES FOR ENDANGERING ME BY ENDANGERING YOURSELF... YOU WILL RECEIVE EXTRA ASSIGNMENTS FOR A WEEK," He replies coldly, "AND-"

Unexpectedly, he turns and cuffs your head. You keep a grip on the pie, keeping your balance because his hand is still holding yours. "Ow..." You complain, thrilled by the restraint of his strength. " _Sorry._ "

"DO YOU WANT A HARSHER PUNISHMENT?? SAY IT LIKE YOU MEAN IT..." Your gut wants to find out exactly how harsh he could make the threatened punishment, but your head has this thing called common sense, something you usually ignore.

"Sorry..." You lie, but Papyrus never said you had to actually mean it. He nods, satisfied. "And thanks..." You add, a bit guiltily. It's kind of nice to have someone care about your reckless behavior... even if he does it because he cares about his Syndicate, not you specifically.

"YOU ARE WELCOME. DO NOT LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN." He replies and you grin, swinging his hand back and forth.

"You're strong!" You say. His cheekbones tinge a slight red, or maybe it's the light.

"Y-YES, I AM. DO NOT FORGET IT..."

"I dunno, I might need a reminder every once in a while..." You say back, flirting unabashedly. Except he probably won't see it as that.

He cuffs you again, less roughly. "CROSS ME AND YOU WILL RECEIVE FAR MORE THAN YOU BARGAINED FOR."

####

You set your table, hoping Papyrus doesn't notice the scrubbed away bloodstain on the floor. He steps over it carefully, with a pointed look at you, and you wince. "So, weather's been nice..." You resort to small talk to break the tension. Your new gun hangs at your side, as you're unwilling to put it down for even a moment. You'll sleep with it on the bedside table (not under your pillow, that would be dangerous... and a very boring way to die).

"IT HAS, YES, BUT I BELIEVE THERE ARE STORMS COMING." He replies, sitting down and pulling a pan of food from his inventory (ugh, you are jealous, you are so completely jealous...). And true, the rival gangs do seem to be up to something.

"Eh, those little drizzles?? Nothing you can't handle." You say--Papyrus will defeat them easily--placing your sad pie on the table and sitting down. Papyrus serves what appears to be some form of pasta from the pan and you start to eat, gasping with melodramatic shock at the delectable taste and texture, then gobbling the food down.

"I DESPISE THE THUNDERING ONES." He replies and you have to think about that one for a moment. The gangs that are all talk and bluster? Or...

"But lightning comes before..." You muse. "The thunder is only the aftershock..."

"I HAVE FOUND THAT THE RESULTING THUNDER OFTEN AFFECTS ALMOST AS MUCH AS THE INITIAL LIGHTNING."

"So we should try to avoid the lightning and prepare for the thunder." You respond, helping yourself to seconds of the wonderful pasta stuff.

Papyrus grins. "PRECISELY." And he doesn't admit to the game, and neither do you, because whoever puts it out in the open loses.

"This food is _wonderful_." You gush, now that you think the previous conversation has killed the awkwardness. "I have to know your recipe!"

"IT'S A SECRET, RESERVED FOR FAMILY ONLY! IF FAMILY WOULD BE INTERESTED ENOUGH TO ASK, THAT IS..." he replies, shooting down your hopes.

You pout, made more dramatic by the loose warmth of food in your belly. "Aw... well, I won't let you have my pie recipe, then!"

He scoffs. "LIKE I _WANT_ IT! HERE, I WILL TRY IT AND DASH YOUR VANITY TO THE ROCKS..."

He takes a slice of pie and digs in daintily. His cheekbones flush pink. "A-AHEM, T-TERRIBLE! ABSOLUTELY BELOW MY STANDARDS!! GIVE ME ANOTHER SLICE!"

"Not unless you admit you liked~ it!!" You sing, guarding your pie.

He crosses his arms and scowls at you. "HAND IT OVER... I MUST... UH, _DISPOSE_ OF IT... SINCE IT IS SO TERRIBLE. EVEN YOU WOULDN'T WANT IT."

You take a slice of the pie and gobble it down. It's one of your better baked pies. "I dunno, Papyrus, I think this is pretty good. But I'll be gracious and offer the entire pie and its recipe to you if you give me the recipe for the pasta stuff!"

He seems about to refuse you, but you pout at him. "Please? It would be so magnanimous of you..."

"Y-YES... IT WOULD BE... AND I AM A VERY MAGNANIMOUS SKELETON... SO I WILL DEIGN TO TAKE THIS TRADE."

"Thanks, Papyrus!" You say cheerfully, and he opens his jaws to retort, his cheekbones pink, but then clacks them closed again.

####

You finally manage to get the human Papyrus wanted hired into the mayor's staff, someone named Casey, into the position of secretary after finding dirt on the previous secretary and denouncing the allowance of such to your aunt. The other assignments are easy enough so far, and you spend the rest of the day trying to figure out who the moles could be and who they're working for.

Papyrus calls you into the hideout for the first time, pleased with your success of getting his mole into a position of influence, and you buzz with excitement as you put on work clothes and holster your revolver to your belt.

When you enter his office, you see the phone is hanging off its hook and you try to fix it but it just falls off, so you sit down before Papyrus enters and pretend nonchalance.

"VERY GOOD," Papyrus says. You sit up a bit straighter, puffing your chest out. It _was_ rather nifty, after all. "TO PAY YOU BACK FOR THIS PLEASING RESULT, I WILL ARRANGE FOR ANY CULPRITS YOU CANNOT ARREST TO DISAPPEAR."

You should have known this was coming... it was only a matter of time. And you can't exactly refuse, either... "No, I'd rather do that, but thanks." You say anyway to see his reaction.

He scowls. "WE'VE TALKED ABOUT THIS. I KNOW YOU LIKE PLAYING VIGILANTE, BUT I WOULD PREFER MY _DATEMATE_ TO KEEP THEIR NOSE CLEAN."

"Come on, Papyrus, that's the only fun I get out of my job..." You plead, knowing he means he doesn't want his _political influence_ sullied.

"ACCEPT IT. I WON'T ARGUE WHEN IT IS SO CLEAR THAT I WILL WIN." His stern demeanor thrills in your ribs.

You... could always go behind his back, and not _tell_ him about any culprits that need killing... He's not exactly your boss, after all. Only a business partner. "Fine."

"IF YOU EVER HAVE A BOON, YOU HAVE MORE THAN EARNED IT." He tells you and you thank him drily before commenting on the broken phone. Papyrus gives said phone a glare. "IT WON'T STAY ON ITS HOOK AND IT DOESN'T WORK ANYWAY. THERE'S ANOTHER PHONE IN THE OUTER ROOM WE USE."

You discuss other things for a bit, like the potential moles, and then he directs the conversation back to the original topic.

"TELL ME, ARE THERE ANY CULPRITS WE CAN TAKE CARE OF WITHIN THE WEEK?"

You shrug, but he scowls deeper at you. So you give in and admit to having a case where the criminal won't be prosecuted for his crime since he's a wealthy businessman and bribed the judges and police. Papyrus says he'll send someone to deal with him within the next week. And then he dismisses you.

As you pass the phone in the lobby on your way out, the handheld piece is askew, so you fix it.


	6. Titanium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> misgendering

Aunt Nadia wishes for your presence at her dinner table, oh and bring the monster, too. That's basically what her summons says, a couple days after giving your report to Papyrus. You’re in a good mood today, so instead of burning the note you crumple it and toss it in the garbage pail across the room, silently cheering when it goes in. Then you call Papyrus at the hideout. "Hey, want to go out to dinner with a racist bitch?" You say cheerfully after he's picked up and confirmed it is him you're speaking to and not anyone else.

"YOUR AUNT THE MAYOR?? OF COURSE I WOULD. WHAT TIME?" He sounds to be in a good mood as well.

You tell him and he agrees to pick you up before then and drive down to your Aunt's house. You almost wear one of your favorite dresses, but then reconsider, because you don't really want to piss her off too much when she's just meeting your (fake) boyfriend (except she'll have to think he's your girlfriend, she would never approve if she knew the truth, politics be damned). So you dress up in a dark blue pantsuit with deep red roses on the lapels and hems instead. Brush your hair so the thick shiny waves settle on your shoulders fluffily, put a bit of red/silver eyeshadow on, a smidge of lipstick, slip your new gun into its holster on your hip, and you're set.

Papyrus arrives in a fancy red car. You get in and scowl in mockery of him when he doesn't stop glancing at you with a pink dusting on his cheekbones. "What, never seen someone in a suit before?"

"AHEM... I HAVE, OF COURSE, JUST... I'M WONDERING IF YOU NOTICED HOW NICELY I DRESSED UP!!"

He is, actually, nicely dressed up. Of course, he's always nicely dressed up, but this time he's wearing silver pants that reveal the tip of his pelvis, and a loose silver croptop with the neck hanging low enough to reveal his sternum and a couple ribs. A crimson scarf completes the look and matches the roses in your own outfit.

"You're beautiful." You tell him, drily. "Almost too beautiful. My aunt doesn't deserve to have such magnificence at her table."

"NYEH HEH HEH, NOBODY DESERVES SUCH MAGNIFICENCE, YET I MUST HAVE MERCY AND REVEAL IT TO SOME FEW UNDESERVING SOULS." His arrogant joy feeds a warm fluff in your chest, a feeling you never considered concurring with him.

"So magnanimous..." You tease, shoving his arm. He pinches yours lightly in retaliation and electricity lingers after his touch. "So... Papyrus... I might have to say some things that will sound... bad. But I won't mean any of it, I'm just manipulating her." You say seriously, now that you've tried to soften him.

"VERY GOOD FOR LETTING ME KNOW." He says, shifting the gears and starting to drive. The car runs smoothly through traffic, its brilliant red color standing out from the usual black or grey of automobiles. It can't belong to the Syndicate, it stands out too much, so it must be his personal car.

When he pulls up to your aunt's house, she's waiting on the porch in a pink chiffon dress. You step out and greet her with a kiss to warm her up. Then you turn around and gesture to Papyrus. "Aunt Nadia, meet Papyrus. Papyrus, my aunt the mayor."

"NICE TO MEET YOU, MY AUNT THE MAYOR!" Papyrus greets and steps forward with his hand outstretched to shake hers, his tone no longer the hardened roughness of the streets, but bright and innocent.

Nadia's face flashes with disgust for a brief instant before her greed shuts it down and overtakes her eyes. She takes his hand gingerly and winces at his strong grip.

"Won't- won't you come in?" She offers, and you could laugh for pure vicious glee.

"Of course, Auntie." You say and gesture for Papyrus to pass first.

Nadia flinches as he brushes her lightly as he goes inside. You pat her shoulder and whisper, "Think of the voters, Auntie." And then follow him.

Dinner is a quiet affair. You attempt to make conversation, and your aunt tries to appreciate it and respond, but she's slowly fading into a dangerous mood, silent and sullen before the volcano eruption. Papyrus continues to be a bright and cheerful version of himself, but you're finding it eery and disquieting, wishing he would be harsh again.

And then Nadia says, "Miss, do you realize my nephew's intentions? Is this relationship going anywhere, ahem, productive?"

Papyrus chokes. "EXCUSE YOU, I PREF-" You kick him under the table.

"She realizes I plan to pursue marriage." You say evenly, as he kicks you harshly back. If you can stand being called her _nephew_ all the time _,_ then he can certainly survive being thought a girl for one night. "She's a great person, aunt, if you'd just get to know her-" Papyrus steps on your foot and grinds it under his boot. Your smile remains steady. You did _kind_ _of_ warn him.

"Well, as long as you realize it is impossible for you two to ever have children the natural way, then I suppose it is alright with me." She lies through her teeth, glaring at you with the warning to dump Papyrus as soon as the election is done.

"Thanks, auntie." You say calmly, kicking Papyrus again as he splutters. He crushes your foot and a grin cracks your face. This is more fun than the dry boring conversation of before, even if he is pissed with you afterwards.

Nadia eventually dismisses you and you give Papyrus a meaningful look. He shoots a glare at you, then lifts his foot so you can stand. You do so, staggering on your hurt foot and sticking your tongue out at him when his jaw quirks in a pleased smile.

You grab for his arm when he stands, determined to make him sorry. He dodges you smoothly, sending you stumbling into the wall.

"Oh dear, I hope you're not one of those _feminists_." Aunt Nadia preens.

"I AM, ACTUALLY. I BELIEVE WOMEN CAN WALK PERFECTLY WELL ON THEIR OWN." And with that retort, he stomps out. Nadia glares at you. Time to make a hasty retreat.

Papyrus starts the car and you vault into the passenger side, not exactly trusting him to _not_ zoom off and leave you.

"I'm really sorry, Papyrus, but I had to-"

"SILENCE." The car rips out of the driveway. He's annoyed at you, you can see that.

"I didn't know it would bother you that much..." You disobey his order.

"I CAN HANDLE BEING CALLED A FEMALE. IT DOES NOT NECESSARILY BOTHER ME AT ALL." He growls, still mad.

"Is... is it because I didn't ask?"

"SHE HAS NO RIGHT TO HATE AND MISTREAT PEOPLE WHO ARE DIFFERENT FROM HER." And your mouth makes a little 'oh'. "YOU HAD TO HIDE MY GENDER BECAUSE SHE WOULD NOT ALLOW IT IF SHE THOUGHT WE WERE BOTH MALE. I WOULD HAVE APPRECIATED YOU TELLING ME _MORE_ _EXPLICITLY_ BEFOREHAND WHAT YOU HAD TO PRETEND, BUT WHAT'S DONE IS DONE." His jaws twist in an evil smirk. "I THINK I GOT YOU BACK FOR IT, ANYHOW."

"Nah, I think I still need to be punished for my insolence." You grin. "After all, this is the ruse we'll have to keep on playing till the wedding."

"HM, YOU'RE RIGHT... WHAT ABOUT MORE EXTRA WORK!!"

"Oh, please, anything but that..." You groan, not entirely joking.

####

The next day, you're taking care of cases when the police call you to tell you there's been an arrest. Somebody tried to attack the culprit of a certain case you solved, the one where said culprit bribed the police to stay out of jail, the one you told Papyrus about... cold ice runs through your blood. Somebody tipped the police that an attack would be made, and so they'd been watching the culprit’s house. Papyrus must have told his Syndicate about the planned attack, and one of them ratted to the police. The mole.

You ask who was arrested.

"Skeleton calls himself Sans, and a human calls herself Nails."

#### 

It's actually not a cut-and-dry case like the police think, Sans and Nails were only caught walking behind the house. You can get them out, you're sure of it. And then you can figure out who the hell the mole was.

Papyrus storms into your apartment a couple hours later, looking as scary as the mama bear whose cubs have been killed. "Sire, I was just working on a way to get them out," You start, sure that he can't be mad at _you_ , even as he stalks closer. "I'll cover it up." He looms, his furious gaze attempting to pin you. You start to stand.

His hand shoots out and balls in your shirt, lifting you onto your toes and slamming your back against the wall. Fear thrills in your gut, oh, maybe he is mad at you. "HOW DARE YOU FUCKING ACT INNOCENT, WHEN YOU'RE THE **ONLY ONE I TOLD**!!" The fear becomes cold terror as his other fist draws back.

"Wait-no! I swear it wasn't me! I didn't betray you, honest! Please!" You let the terror seep into your eyes, anticipation thrumming in your flesh. But Papyrus actually stays his hand.

"IF YOU DIDN'T, THEN WHO THE FUCK DID?? AND HOW??" He... believes you... good.

"That's what- what I've been trying to figure out." You say, hoping to placate him. "Please, give me time. I'll find the culprit."

"I CAN'T BE LENIENT ON YOU WHEN ALL THE GODDAMNED EVIDENCE POINTS TO YOU BEING THE TRAITOR, AND THE ONLY THING SAVING YOUR ASS RIGHT NOW IS THAT I CAN TELL YOU'RE TELLING THE TRUTH." He growls.

"Th- that..." You gulp, your throat and mouth dry from the dread of your plan. "That's okay. Because the fastest way to find the traitor is to pretend you've already caught the guilty party. So- so punish me like you would the traitor, and I'll figure out who they are."

"VERY WELL. COME TO MY OFFICE TOMORROW. WORK ON GETTING SANS AND NAILS OUT OF JAIL IN THE MEANTIME."

"Yes, sire. Thank you, I won't fail you." You say, heart pounding as he drops you.

"FOR YOUR SAKE, I HOPE YOU DON'T." He stomps out.

You spend the day talking to officers and politicians, pushing bribes into the right hands, and threatening others. It's a bit harder since they all know you have a habit of ‘losing’ your accused only to find them again in a ditch or a lake, so they think, correctly, that this is another of your attempts to kill the accused.

But you'll get Sans and Nails out, eventually. You're more concerned about finding out who the mole is before Papyrus can seriously injure you like he seemed ready to do. The mole used the anonymous tip line, so there's no way for you to trace them.

You replay the night, wondering if Papyrus could have told someone else that he would be sending someone to kill that particular person... but he said you were the only one, so...

The only possible explanation is the phone. If someone was listening through the "broken" phone using the lobby phone... But how to catch them, then??

 


	7. Truth Becomes Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> violence, pain, blood/dust

The couple of people in the halls of the hideout give you nasty glares as you pass them. Drew and Brass stand by the lobby phone, chatting. Drew gives off an excited aura. Brass just ignores you.

Papyrus sits behind his desk, waiting. The malfunctioning phone hangs off the hook again. _Is it really malfunctioning though?_ He ignores you as you step forward into the office, your limbs already aching in anticipation.

He looks up when you're in front of him. You smile ruefully. His gaze is not soft, it shows no mercy as it tears your hope to shreds. Your smile fades into apprehension. "SO YOU DID NOT FIND ANY OTHER CULPRIT... BE PREPARED. I WILL NOT HAVE ANY MERCY ON YOU." He stands and comes around the desk, surveying you. "WHICH ARM SHOULD I START WITH?"

You hold out your non-dominant arm, trepidation making your movements falter, fear electric in your gut beside another warmer feeling. Then you cock your head and glance pointedly to the phone. "S-sire... please have mercy..." You plead for the potential eavesdropper's benefit. Papyrus notices the direction and his sockets sharpen.

He gets out a piece of paper and a pencil. -Who?- he writes, and then rants out loud while you write back. "YOU DARED TO FUCK WITH ME AND MINE."

-Whoever said the phone was broken is lying. they were listening.-

"YOU WON'T BE GETTING OFF EASY, TRAITOR." -Interesting hypothesis, but can you prove it??-

-break my arm. i'll scream. and we'll go out and see if anybody is listening on the other phone.-

"MY EMPLOYEES ARE IN PRISON BECAUSE OF YOU." -I've been doing my own research.- Then he picks up a broomstick from the corner and you're mostly relieved and slightly disappointed that he's not going to actually hurt you. Mostly relieved, though, because broken limbs are less fun than they sound. 

He cracks the broomstick clean in half and you scream, silently impressed with his strength. "NEXT IT'S ONE LEG. THEN THE OTHER ARM. AFTER THAT, THE OTHER LEG. AND... FINALLY... YOUR SKULL."

You draw your gun and walk quietly to the door. Papyrus continues to rant angrily behind you to keep up the sound of normalcy.  

Slamming the door open with a foot, you aim for where the other phone is located. It clatters on the wall, dangling on its cord. But you can't see anyone by it; it seems like Brass and Drew have left. You walk further into the room, cautiously. Floorboards seem to creak under someone else's weight.

But nobody is there. Papyrus comes out after you and a shiver runs down your spine, there's no way to prove you're not the traitor... But what if that's the point? Your attackers have upped their game... framing you to get you out of their way.

You holster your gun and turn to brave Papyrus's menacing scowl. "THIS WAS A WASTE OF TIME." He snarls.

"I need one more chance." You stride past him to get to the desk, where the piece of paper is. Then write, -if you forgive me and say i didn't do anything wrong, they might try to kill me on the way home. have someone follow behind and catch them. if there's no attack, then i give up.- "Please. I swear I'm not the rat."

Papyrus takes the paper and considers it for a long moment. Then a jagged bone spears through the supposedly malfunctioning phone on the wall and it sparks. Then he stomps out of the office and shouts, "DREW!! GET OVER HERE!! DREW IS OUR MECHANIC..."

The gelatinous blob appears from the hallway and you're suddenly struck with the knowledge that comes sometimes when you're working on a case only to have all the pieces fall into place. Drew. The gelatinous blob who can _camouflage_. The phone, dangling as though someone dropped it when you came out. The _mechanic._  "Ac-actually, why doesn't Drew come with me on the way home?" You ask nonchalantly. "As protection."

Papyrus gives you a look that tells you he knows what you're up to. But he nods. "VERY WELL. DREW, I HAVE PARDONED THEM, AS THEY ARE NOT AT FAULT. YOU WILL MAKE SURE THE REAL TRAITOR DOES NOT JUMP THEM."

Drew burbles agreement. Papyrus scribbles something on the paper and folds it up before handing it to you. -If you kill him without evidence, I will kill you as the traitor. Remember, guns don't work on monsters.- You crumple it, smirking, and throw it at him, who catches it and glares at you with a glint of something more proud than angry.

"All I need is time and luck _._ " You respond. "Let's go, Drew, I still need to free Sans and Nails."

You leave the hideout with Drew behind you, aware with every passing second as you get farther and farther away from the hideout how much danger you're in. But you resist the temptation to keep glancing back at him. He squelches behind you as you turn into an alley to take a shortcut.

The most frustrating _exhilarating_ part is that you have to wait for Drew, hope for him to make the first move and trust that Papyrus sent someone to follow in case you lose the fight. Trust that Papyrus doesn't want to lose his political influence and mole in the police force.

And then Drew sighs in exasperation as you're approaching the darkest part of the shortcut. "Why... why is it always me... who has to do the dirty work." And intent fills the air, not nearly as powerful or menacing as Papyrus's, but there all the same.

You turn and kick out but it's too late, he's disappeared and several blob attacks surround you, spinning like circular saws in the air. One tears through your arm, exactly as painful as you knew it would be, and you scream as loudly as you can, hoping for someone, anyone besides Drew, to hear you, because there's no way you can fight someone invisible. The attacks descend; you draw your gun and fire when a trash can falls over. Trash sticks onto Drew, visible as floating through thin air and you dodge another attack before leaping for the monster and kicking with all your draining strength and growing hatred.

Dust explodes, covering the alley and you in the shimmering silvery stuff. You cough, choking on the remains of Drew. The attacks have dissipated, their owner no longer able to maintain them. Your arm dangles by your side, bleeding out, and you groan. Then grit your teeth and rip your dusty shirt off, using it to bind the wound. The dust makes the torn flesh sting and itch.

Papyrus will be mad at you, probably, but you survived. Unfortunately, Drew did not. Which means no interrogation, thus no figuring out who sent him. You stagger to your apartment, covered in dust and blood, and collapse on your couch, exhausted. You have to figure it out before you see Papyrus again, you have to get evidence of a target on your head.

The phone rings at some point, but you shuffle through case files and ignore it, searching for something, anything to tie the motive together. It's possible Drew was paid by one of your rivals or by someone who wants revenge... but very few people know you're dating Papyrus, and fewer still know that the arrangement actually has you basically working for him. You suppose anyone who knows you're dating the Boss of the Syndicate could guess that you'd also be using your influence and skills for his benefit... the phone continues to ring.

You pick it up. "Drewsy, are you okay, buddy??" ...Brass?

"Brass, why don't you- rgh, meet me at the bridge in the abandoned park in three hours. Don't bring anyone. I'll tell you where I've hidden Drew." You say calmly _painfully_ back. Then you hang up on her.

You stand, blacking out for a second and reeling. Then you take off the makeshift shirt bandage and wrap the wound in actual medical gauze. Change your clothes and wash the dust off yourself with a wet cloth, then holster your gun and slip a combat knife in your pocket to finish.

You spend the last three hours of your life compiling recent cases, (work given by Papyrus), that point to a new gang having a mole in the Syndicate, and you take a notepad and a pen, then head for the park with said cases hidden under a floorboard and the notepad and pen in your pocket. Then you stop, and turn back begrudgingly to call Papyrus.

"WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED, SHURA??"

"Killed- killed Drew... sorry." You gasp out through the pounding pain of your arm and grit your teeth for his outrage.

"STAY THERE. HAMMER LOST YOU WHEN HE WAS TRAILING YOU TWO. I WILL TAKE CARE OF THIS."  He... actually sounds concerned? Distantly, you think something is wrong with this.

"N-no. Finding- evidenc-hah-" The pain clouds your mind. "Bridge, park, Brass, army. Floor- floorboard. Bye." You hang up on him before he can protest. Before he can stop you.

####

At the park, you lean on the bridge railing, waiting for Brass and any friends to show up. The bridge creaks and you look up, hazy-visioned. It's Brass. Someone else steps on the other end of the bridge, a woman you almost got arrested for larceny. More people rustle in the woods on either end, at least twelve. You take out your notepad, placing it on the railing, and smile at Brass. "So. You came."

"I see you did, too..." Brass snickers. "Didn't know I would be smarter than you, huh?"

"Nah- I figured this would happen. Can- I ask a few questions?"

"Where's Drew??" Brass demands, her weak intent flaring in the air. Maybe it's not weak, though. It's stronger than Drew's. It's just weak compared to Papyrus's.

"He's somewhere... Answer- my questions and I'll- I'll tell you. If... if you hurt- me, he hurts too." This is only to buy time and get information for Papyrus. You have no hope of surviving this.

Brass crosses her arms. "Fine. What're your questions."

You position your pen over the notepad. "Who- are you involved with?"

"The Dirty Bells." The woman behind you says and you write it down. "Brass, just kill him."

"No! This bastard is going to tell us where he is! You get three more questions, then you tell us or we torture you!" Brass says.

"Why don't we just torture him now..." The woman says drily.

"Because Drewsy will be tortured too if we do, you nincompoop!!" Brass screeches.

You look back at the woman and wink. She sighs. "Fine. What are your questions?"

"Where does- does the Dirty Bells's income come- come from?" You force out.

"Our opium den and deals mostly. Protection costs and weapon smuggling make up the other about-twenty-percent." The woman answers.

You note that down. "How many people in- in your organization?"

"Approximately eighty."

"And what are your intentions with the Syndicate?"

"To destroy them and take their place as the strongest mafia in the city." The woman replies coolly. "Where is Drew?"

You smirk. "He's in an alley... or should I say... he- he's all over the alley..."

Brass shrieks. "How dare you!! You killed my Drewsy!! DIE, FREAK!!" Claw attacks slash down at you and you laugh as you dodge them.  Tear the piece of paper from the notepad, and crumple it, stuffing it into your mouth. Then you leap the railing and jump into the pool below as guns crack and bullets whiz past you. The water hits you like a concrete wall before softening and enfolding you.

Swim. Swim downstream, underwater, but then your leg jerks and explodes with pain, red filling the water around you. Another punch to your lower back, again agony takes over your mind and all you can do is blindly swim, rising for air and hoping no stray bullet splatters grey alongside the red in the water.

You're weak, though. You swallow the paper and it catches in your throat. You can't continue. You go limp, floating face up in the water. The firing stops, weirdly enough, are they not going to make sure you're dead? There's yelling and shouting, muffled in your ears through the water. Gunfire, but no new pain bursts in your agonized drained body.

And then a cold sensation slides through your unwounded arm. And you start to float out of the water, blood draining with the last of your strength as your body leaves the river.

You're rested on the bank, on sticks and stones that dig into your bones, and new pain like fire blazes through your body, new agony increasing tenfold yet it burns away the old as though reforming blood and vessels and flesh. You cough, once, twice, then vomit, pushing yourself up on both arms to expel your last meal along with the paper.   Leather glove hiding a bony hand runs against your scalp, pulling your hair out of the way as you hack and gag.

As soon as you've gotten rid of the last of your stomach's contents, you realize you're not in agony anymore; Papyrus healed the worst of it. But you feel shaky, weak, and you probably still have internal bleeding. You absently grab for the bile-covered paper, just in time as arms wrap under your knees and shoulders, picking you up as effortlessly as if you weighed nothing.

Then jogging sturdy steps jolt you as your rescuer carries you away. Rest your head in the crimson scarf, and your eyes fight futilely against sleep. The hand by your knees pinches your thigh harshly. "STAY AWAKE. I AM NOT PLEASED WITH YOU..." There are the cracks and thuds as of other footsteps around you.

"'m sorry... sire..." You murmur, snuggling against the softness of his scarf.

"DON'T YOU DARE SLEEP. IF YOU DO, I BREAK YOUR FINGERS WHEN WE GET BACK." He threatens. The fear of more pain gives you a thrill which helps you to keep your eyes open.

"G-got it... keep talking..."

"I EXPLICITLY COMMANDED YOU TO _STAY THERE_!! AND WHAT DO YOU DO?? GET US INVOLVED IN A FIGHT WITH A NEW GANG!! YOU'RE GODDAMNED LUCKY NONE OF MINE GOT HURT!!" You start to drift off, but another pinch jolts you awake.

"AND THEN, THEN YOU HAVE THE AUDACITY TO DO SOMETHING STUPID AND RECKLESS LIKE THIS?? DID YOU HAVE ANY PLAN TO MAKE IT OUT ALIVE, OR WERE YOU COMMITTING _SUICIDE_??"

"d-dunno..." Another pinch, this time to under your arm on your ribs. "ow... 'm sorry..." You groan, drunk on excitement and pain.

"I'M GOING TO SERIOUSLY PUNISH YOU FOR THIS MORONIC DEBACLE!! FIRST I'M GOING TO THRASH YOU TO WITHIN AN INCH OF YOUR LIFE!! AND THEN... THEN I WILL HEAL YOU. AND THEN I'M GOING TO THRASH YOU AGAIN UNTIL YOU ARE SCREAMING FOR MERCY...!! AND FINALLY, I'M GOING TO BREAK _EVERY_ FUCKING BONE IN YOUR GODDAMNED _BODY_!!" He describes, not knowing how attractive the proposition is to you. 

You nuzzle his sternum and sigh. "thank you..." He pinches you again.

He continues to rant and rage at you as he carries you away. Between his voice and the intermittent pinches, you manage to not sleep.

And then he finally lays you down in a sterile white bed, people in white coats pushing him back to stick needles in and poke and prod you."VERY GOOD FOR STAYING AWAKE, YOU ARE NOW ALLOWED TO FALL ASLEEP."

You do so almost as soon as the words leave his mouth. You're... safe.

####

When you wake up, covered in tubes and stitches, Papyrus is working at a makeshift desk on a chair beside your bed. He looks up from paperwork and scowls at you. You grin ruefully back, remembering his threatened punishment. "I got info, though..."

"I SAW. WE CLEANED THE PAPER OFF. THIS IS HELPFUL... AND I FOUND THE CASES YOU HID. WE CAN STRIKE A BLOW AT THE DIRTY BELLS NOW THAT WE KNOW THEY EXIST. WE CAN DESTROY THEM. GOOD JOB. KNUCKLES WAS WORKING WITH THEM TOO AND I AM WORKING WITH CASEY TO FIGURE OUT ANY OTHER MOLES, BUT WE BELIEVE THOSE THREE WERE THE ONLY ONES."

"Wh-when are you going to punish me...?" You ask, half excited and half terrified.

"RIGHT NOW." He growls. "NO ALCOHOL FOR A MONTH. NO TOBACCO OR CAFFEINE OR ANY OTHER KIND OF RECREATIONAL DRUG EITHER."

"What??" You nearly shriek from the piercing blow. "You can't do that!"

"CAN'T I?? I WARNED YOU THERE WOULD BE CONSEQUENCES... AND QUITE FRANKLY YOU SHOULD BE THANKING ME FOR MY LENIENCY... OR I CAN ADD ONTO THE PUNISHMENT, IF YOU STILL INSIST ON COMPLAINING..."

You droop in despair. "Thank you... for your leniency... But why didn't you just do the other punishment?"

He grins. "I AM A SKELETON WITH STANDARDS!! AFTER TAKING SO MANY BULLETS AND INJURIES WITHOUT DYING, YOU COULDN'T POSSIBLY BE PUNISHED SEVERELY BY THE ONE I HAD PLANNED AT FIRST!! SO I DECIDED TO BE HARSHER."

You wince. "Yes... thanks for that..."

"YOU WOULDN'T _PREFER_ THAT ONE OVER THIS ONE, WOULD YOU?? BECAUSE IF YOU WOULD, I CAN ALWAYS ADD IT TO THIS ONE..." His grin is evil.

"N-no..." You admit, since the prospect of intense pain on top of no alcohol doesn't exactly sound pleasant. "...I regret everything..."

"GOOD. MAYBE IT WILL HELP YOU BE LESS RECKLESS IN THE FUTURE. YOU'LL BE GLAD TO KNOW YOUR EFFORTS HAVE GOTTEN SANS AND NAILS OUT OF SUSPICION AND JAIL AND THEY ARE MAD AT YOU FOR KILLING DREW BEFORE THEY COULD." You sit up on the bed, noting that you're hungry and thirsty. Papyrus notices your frown and nods. "THE NURSES SHOULD BRING YOU FOOD AT SOME POINT..."

"If I apologize and mean it, will you make it a week?" You beg.

"NO. I AM DISPLEASED WITH YOU, EVEN IF IT IS TEMPERED BY PRIDE. YOUR STUPIDITY HAS SUCCEEDED IN ITS INTENT, BUT IF YOUR CLEVERNESS HAD FAILED IN EVEN ONE AREA, YOU WOULD NOT BE CURRENTLY INTACT..."

"Oh." You bow to him from the bed, not missing the way his cheekbones flush pink lightly at the action. "Then, thank you for your mercy."

"Y-YOU ARE WELCOME! DO-DON'T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN." He flusters. "AND LAY BACK DOWN, THE NURSES WILL GET MAD IF YOU WRECK THE TUBES AGAIN..." 

"Yes, boss." You plop back, accidentally catching one of the tubes and tearing it out. "Whoops."

 


	8. Out Of My Head

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> bad language. like, worse than usual. racism against monsters, magusphobia

The war against the Dirty Bells is facilitated by the deaths of six of their number in the battle on the bridge (Brass included). None of the Syndicate were lost, which explains why Papyrus has been lighter on you than he would have been if any of his had been slightly unluckier.

"I think she's a bit thirsty..." You mock in an undertone during the first (second altogether) date at the movies. Without looking, he pinches the side of your ribs. "Ow..." You complain, then try to pinch him back before remembering he's a literal skeleton. And he catches your hand in his before you can even touch him, so it's a moot point anyway.

Every time you try to mock the movie or characters, you receive a painful pinch, your hand caught in his so you have trouble stopping him. You finally give up and just mumble under your breath to yourself. He maintains a grip of your hand. Warm amusement remains in your chest.

Every day, you work on cases and assignments and also on a way to trap the Dirty Bells into getting caught by the police. Papyrus has you cooperate with Casey on the final project, saying they've had success in that area before.

Casey is pleasant to work with, as they know the ins and outs of police business pretty well and have a head for keeping on task and not dilly-dallying like some of your past partners. You used to prefer to work alone, but as long as your partner is hard-working and sensible, you suppose cooperation is actually better than trying to do it all yourself. They juggle helping you and being the mayor's secretary. And apparently they're the same human who is Sans's spouse? Cool.

Every night, you wander the city, trying and failing to lose the Syndicate member trailing you. Papyrus mentions it, annoyed, the first couple times, but as you never actually lose your follower and you never actually go anywhere or do anything he disapproves of, he lets it go.

The weeks pass like this. There's no great excitement in your own life except to hear about the small spats between the Syndicate and the Dirty Bells, which the Syndicate nearly always wins. Papyrus descends into a worse mood every day that the Dirty Bells continues to challenge his supremacy. You start to enjoy the movies he watches with you, as they do a bit to temper his dangerous frustration. You're usually in a foul mood yourself though, due to withdrawal from tobacco and alcohol, so you continue to mock the movies despite his pinches and reprimands.

Dinners are stormy affairs, with you generally stepping on his feet and him retaliating in kind, and neither mincing words about your frustrations and annoyances. But for the most part it's not argumentative, instead being more of a weird angry camaraderie which scares the waiters and the other patrons.

It's rare when your good days and his overlap. But sometimes they do. Today is hopefully one such day, about a month since the discovery of the existence of the Dirty Bells. You go into the shop where you placed an order a week ago and, indeed, it's done. Satisfied with it, you hide it under your coat and go to the Syndicate's new hideout.

"REPORT." Papyrus looks up from doing paperwork. His typical scowl is slightly lighter than usual when it locks onto your eyes. You're starting to notice small indicators like that.

"Casey and I uncovered one of the bosses of the Dirty Bells and leaked incriminating evidence to the police and to reporters. She'll be taken down within the week." You say, hiding your full hand under your coat.

"VERY GOOD. THE DIRTY BELLS ARE SLOWLY BEING WHITTLED AWAY... THEY SEEM TO BE VERY WELL FUNDED, HOWEVER. A SINGLE OPIUM DEN, EVEN IF THEY'RE DOING DRUG DEALS ON THE SIDE, DOES NOT ACCOUNT FOR THAT." Papyrus says, almost cheerful compared to how he's been lately. You're hoping the gift will help lighten his mood even more.

"Want us to look into it?"

"YES, DO THAT... AND TELL CASEY GOOD JOB FROM ME, I KNOW I'M ASKING A LOT OF THEM." Casey would be here, but they're pretty busy as your aunt has just started to give them more trust and responsibility.

"Yes, sire..." You shuffle on your feet, your face warm, then slap the present down on the table and turn to beat a hasty retreat.

"WHAT IS THIS FOR??" His amused voice halts you in your tracks.

"U-uh... I... don't really know what you like... So... so..." You turn back, bashful.

He picks up the dagger, its dark red sheath with a strap to attach around his femur. The hilt matches the sheath for redness, but with a black crossguard. He draws it, inspecting the keen swirly-steeled blade. "INTERESTING... WHY WOULD YOU GIVE SUCH A THING TO ME, KNOWING I MIGHT USE IT TO KILL OR MAIM?"

"I'm a private eye, not the _police_. I-" You just barely stop yourself from reminding him that you used to act as a vigilante as well until he put an end to it. You're still figuring out a way to get around his command. "I thought... it could be useful. For close quarters combat..." You gain courage as you speak, standing firm. "You can't always use magic because of the recognizable marks it leaves, you can't let the police track you down or know it was a monster. A dagger stab can't be traced."

Papyrus nods. "I AM PLEASED WITH IT... BUT DON'T EXPECT ME TO BE IN YOUR DEBT." He scowls. So maybe today's not one of his _best_ days, but he's not immediately jumping to the conclusion that you poisoned the blade either, so that's good.

"No, I... just wanted to, uh, cheer you up..." You say honestly. Papyrus cocks an eyeridge at you. "This whole new gang has you really agitated... but it's not as bad as it seems. You'll win. Cause... you're the great and terrible Papyrus!"

He preens, granting you a small smile and it sends prickles of joy over your skin. "I WILL WIN, OF COURSE, WAS THERE ANY DOUBT?? THEY ARE JUST PROLONGING THEIR EVENTUAL DEMISE!"

You bow to him before turning to leave, enjoying the flush of pink on his cheekbones that the action never fails to bestow.

####

The sun sets low over the city, streaking the sky with orange and purple. You hold Papyrus's hand as you walk through the streets, laughing at his disgusted rant about the movie you chose.

Guns crack a block away; you tense and Papyrus squeezes your hand. "I must be going gun-shy," You joke, even though it's quite the opposite problem.

Papyrus lets go of your hand to cuff the back of your head, but you duck and punch his ribs lightly in retaliation. He runs his hand over your scalp, gathering your hair and tugging so that you wince and have to follow him. "Ow, ow, Papyrus..." You whine, ignoring the warmth in your chest and the electricity in your gut. "Why're you so good at this?? It's not fair..."

"BECAUSE I AM THE BEST AT EVERYTHING, OF COURSE!! AND YOU WOULD DO WELL TO REMEMBER IT..." He replies. 

Your body heats and you grin mischievously, bumping into him on purpose "I- dunno, sire, I think I might need a bit more reminding..."

Papyrus shoots you with a mock glare. "REALLY... TOO BAD FOR YOU, THEN... THIS IS YOUR ONLY REMINDER. SIT ON THIS BENCH AND DON'T TALK." He commands, pushing you down onto said bench. You pout at him but remain silent. "NOW, YOU ARE GROUNDED FOR TEN MINUTES. YOU WILL LISTEN TO MY EXPLANATION OF THE PLOT OF," he names an incredibly boring movie and you groan, ducking as he tries to cuff you for the noise. "AND THEN WE WILL CONTINUE ON TO THE DINER." He pats your head and you're lulled into a false sense of security, unprepared for the sudden force of his hand returning to cuff the back of your head, knocking your chin to your chest.

"Ow!" You say, and then dodge, filled with electric false terror. He pinches your arm instead.

He begins on his rant, explaining as he threatened, every single plot element and character in the movie he chose. You yawn and he pinches you again. Glaring at him, you step on his foot. He cuffs the side of your head roughly in retaliation.

He's really something... You sigh, realizing after you make the noise that it came out dreamily. He's dangerous, but also has everything about himself under a fine-tuned control, which is admirable to you. He's exciting. Interesting. A blaze of color in this dull boring world.

You're not even really afraid of him. He's scary, yeah, terrifying even, but not frightening. Even though he's more than capable of tearing you limb from limb, and will if you hurt his family or Syndicate at all, he's only a threat if you make him one. He'll only harm you if you're a threat first.

You don't want to lose this fragile... _something_ that you've built with him. The banter, the arguing, playful cuffs and pinches, foot-stomping, gifts and dates and working together... is this friendship??

You've never had a real friend... only shallow facades with boring one-dimensional creatures. Papyrus... is a person. Vibrant and in-your-face person. You feel high around him, the menace of his power, the safety of his presence, his rare smile causing electric sparks in you...

You want to call it friendship, but you're not sure if it's too soon. Or if he'd consider it the same. At dinner later on, you watch him closely to see any spark in his own eyes, any indicator that he could feel the same.

 

"HONESTLY, WITNESSES ARE SO IDIOTIC!! THEY SNIVEL AND PROMISE TO NOT TELL, BUT AS SOON AS YOU LET THEM GO, THEY'LL SQUEAL. I MADE IT A RULE TO ALWAYS TAKE CARE OF THEM, THREATEN THEIR FAMILY, FORCE THEM TO PAY PROTECTION COSTS, OR KILL THEM... I'VE ONLY EVER HAD TWO GOOD WITNESSES THE WHOLE TIME I'VE BEEN HEAD OF THE SYNDICATE, AND THEY'RE CASEY AND YOU." You're sitting in a private booth, soundproofed, so it's safe for him to be talking about mafia business.

"I'm flattered..." You grumble to keep up the appearance of being frustrated with him as he sips his wine. It's not hard, not when he's being an absolute bastard and not letting you have even a taste. He's a monster, and therefore doesn't need to use the bathroom, making it impossible to sneak some. "Don't see what that has to do with the waiter being an asshole, though."

"OH, BERNARD WAS A WITNESS. WE HAD TO THREATEN HIS WIFE BEFORE HE WOULD SUBMIT TO PAYING FOR PROTECTION AND BEING WATCHED. WE STILL HAVE HIM UNDER SURVEILLANCE."

"Oh, wonderful... Fuck him." You step on his foot. He crushes your other foot under his boot.

"I KNOW, IT'S ALL HIS FAULT FOR STICKING HIS NOSE WHERE IT DIDN'T BELONG." Papyrus growls. "CASEY, AT LEAST, DID THEIR BEST TO HELP US AND EVEN ENDED THE WILLIE'S PRICKS CHAPTER."

"Wow, that was them?" You're impressed. "Those guys were a pain in my ass... I've... uh, ' _arrested'_ some of your people before, but the Willie's Pricks were just... so _bad_ at playing innocent..." He scowls at the mention of his own people being... 'taken care of'.

"I KNOW, YOU KILLED SOME OF MY EMPLOYEES. YOU'RE LUCKY I FOUND USE FOR YOU, OR YOU MIGHT HAVE ENDED UP IN A DITCH SOMEWHERE..." He notes.

"Or I woulda arrested _you_..." You retort. "I could have explained to those police officers what really happened..." You refer to the third meeting, when you pretended to be his datemate to get him out of trouble.

Papyrus smirks, grinding your foot into the ground. "OR I WOULD HAVE KILLED YOU AS SOON AS I KNEW YOUR NAME AND LEARNED YOU WERE THE MAYOR'S RELATIVE..."

"Why didn't you??" You ask coyly. "The second time, why did you let me go?"

Papyrus's cheekbones flush lightly. "I DECIDED I COULD MAKE USE OF YOU ONCE I LEARNED OF YOUR OCCUPATION. BUT THE TROUBLE CAME IN HOW TO MAKE YOU JOIN... I DECIDED ACTING NICE TO YOU WOULD MAKE YOU TRUST ME, AND THEN I'D TRICK YOU INTO DOING FAVORS FOR ME. NYEH HEH, BUT THEN YOU SIMPLIFIED MATTERS WHEN I WAS UNEXPECTEDLY ARRESTED! ...I'LL BET ANYTHING THE FUCKING TRAITORS TIPPED OFF THE GODDAMN HOUNDS..." His form fills with a dark fury at the last realization.

"Lucky them, they're dead already..." You mutter to yourself and Papyrus grunts in frustrated agreement.

The asshole waiter comes in again, spilling water on the floor and handing each of you the wrong order. You let out a sigh and the waiter glares at you. You're trying to be polite and assume he just had a rough night and isn't pleased to be seeing Papyrus... but the main focus of his ire seems to be directed at you. "What's your problem??" You demand finally, after he rolls his eyes at you and huffs when you ask him for utensils.

"Fucking beast's _slut_ ... Ya can eat with the same fingers ya use to fuck yerself, cause that _freak_ ain't gonna give ya _cunt_." He spits and moves to leave.

You're cold all over. Fury. If he had only insulted you, it would have been fine, you're used to insults. But he attacked Papyrus too. You open your mouth to retort, "Ho-"

"SHOULD I SCOUR THAT TONGUE OF YOURS CLEAN WITH _BLEACH_ BEFORE I **SLICE IT OUT** FOR INSULTING _MY_ _DATEMATE_ …??" Papyrus cuts you off, rising to his full height, menacing ire filling the air with powerful intent. His dagger is strapped onto his femur under his pants leg, the pocket there snipped for easy access. One hand is clenched in that pocket.

The waiter gulps, his face paling, wide-eyed with terror. "N-no..." He pleads.

"WHAT DID YOU SAY??" Papyrus growls, seeming about to continue, but you interject.

"Sire, please overlook his words, he would have kept them bottled up if I hadn't pushed. And sometimes venting can be cathartic." You're just saying random bullshit to try to placate him so that nobody dies, and you rise as well, so that your body shields the waiter from the heat of Papyrus's wrath. "We both know he's wrong, and I think he knows it, too. Please let it go." Your hand rests on the gun underneath your jacket, your loose high-slitted dress having been chosen to _not_ impede you from possible physical altercations.

Papyrus continues to scowl at the waiter. "VERY WELL... YOU ARE LUCKY, BERNARD, THAT MY DATEMATE IS SO FORGIVING... EXPECT TO HAVE YOUR PROTECTION COSTS RAISED FROM NOW ON."

The waiter cringes and opens his mouth to complain, but you stop him with an upraised hand. "Thank him for his leniency." You command.

The waiter gulps again, looking as though he'd very much rather be anywhere else. "Th-thank you..." He mutters. You motion for him to continue, he shoots a glare at you and then flinches when Papyrus's intent flares through the atmosphere once more. "F-f-for your- your leniency...!" He spits out, terrified and resentful.

"Very good," You grant him mercy. "Now leave and tell your manager we'd like a less racist waiter to serve us. Those exact words."

He nods quickly and leaves, slamming the door behind him. Papyrus's intent doesn't fade, however. Your hand starts to reach for his shoulder, but you catch yourself before he can notice it, placing it on the table and sitting down as though that was what you meant to do.

"Papyrus... uh... thanks." You say, hoping to placate him. He levels his scowl on you instead letting it burn through the door, but it lightens upon meeting your eyes. "I can take insults, though."

"YOU WERE ABOUT TO DEFEND ME, WERE YOU NOT??" He says, sitting down as well. His intent fades. You grin.

"Of course I was, you're my friend." The words slip from your mouth, leaving you frozen as the damning syllables hang in the air.

His cheekbones flush dark pink and relief trickles through your bones. "OF- OF COURSE I AM!! THE- THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS IS THE BEST FRIEND ANYONE COULD- COULD ASK FOR!!"  

You huff in amusement and agreement, your earlier bad mood vanished into the wake of the asshole's absence. "Does this mean I can have a drink?" You beg teasingly.

"OF WATER?? YES." He scowls again at you, but it's tinged with amusement as though his bad mood has been assuaged as well. "BUT I SUPPOSE NEXT WEEK YOU MAY HAVE ALCOHOL AGAIN... AS A REWARD FOR GOOD BEHAVIOR."

"You're so magnanimous..." You simper melodramatically at him, going so far as to flutter your mascara-lengthened eyelashes.

"I AM, AREN'T I!!" He preens in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus: "WHY OF COURSE YOU HAVE A GREAT FRIEND LIKE ME!!" _...NEW FRIEND ACQUIRED!!_
> 
> ^^ blame SixthSeason. They came up with it. 
> 
> UwU (that just looks like a blissful chicken emoji...)


	9. Taking The Blame

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> language

The wedding is less than four months away. The election... is only one month away. It's always a balancing act every time your aunt's term ends, every time there's another election... you can't be seen to support her and you can't be seen to dissent against her either, to prepare for the cases of her losing or winning.

But this year, you're tired of her tyrannical rule, tired of the fake posturing she does in front of everyone. And there's another candidate you like, one who's all for pro-monster repeals and regulations. So you pretend to support her in front of her face, but give detrimental clues to the newspapers, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs through anonymous leaks for them to eventually uncover the scandals and corruption of her office.

"So that's why I haven't gotten around to the assignment yet..." You explain to Papyrus, who nods thoughtfully.

"HM, I SEE. I EXPECT IT DONE BY TOMORROW, THOUGH." He says.

"U-uh... okay." You say absently, still considering ways to make your aunt suffer.

"IF YOU REALLY WANT TO HURT HER REPUTATION, THE PRO-MONSTER GROUPS HAVE BEEN GROWING IN STRENGTH... YOU COULD MANIPULATE HER INTO SNAPPING..." Papyrus has mercy on you.

That's actually a good idea... "I could invite a different monster to her house and lead on a paparazzi..." You wonder, careful to emphasize the 'different' so Papyrus doesn't think you're trying to trap him into getting caught by a reporter. 

"GO FIND ONE." He dismisses you. "BUT DON'T FORGET TO COMPLETE THE ASSIGNMENT..."

"Yes, sire!" You reply cheerfully and leave.

####

"Hey, ya!" Richard, leader of the Eel team, waves you down in the second story of the hideout. There's a window beside you, overlooking the alley behind the building.

"Yeah?" You say, already annoyed. His subordinates don't deserve him... You've hung with them at Clover's, hearing their complaints. You're ready to give him a chance to prove to be misunderstood or the complaints to be exaggerated... but you doubt he will.

"Ya, clean these." He stuffs a pair of dirty shoes at you. You stare at him with one eyebrow raised. "Well??"

"How the fuck do you think I'm just gonna obey you, dumbass??" You flip him off. "Only person I follow here is your boss, and he ain't here..."

"Yer just his _pet_ , so do as I say, _dog_." He grabs for your shoulder. You deflect him and slam him against the wall.

"Uh, no." You grin, heartbeat calm. "This might be news to you... but we're _partners_. I'm nobody's pet..." You twist his arm behind his back.

He spits, "Oh, ya think?? Yer bamboozling him... sucking-!" 

"Watch your fucking tongue." You snarl, twisting his arm further so he squeals in pain. "Papyrus is not an idiot to be kissed up to, and I'm not his pet to be looked down on."

"Bark all ya like, yer just a goddamn pitbull... worse- a _wolfdog_." Richard struggles as you go cold, "Ever'body damn well _knows_ it, too. An' boss only keeps ya around cause ya _suck just right..._ "

You need a fucking drink.

####

It's only a week before you can have alcohol again. "Please, just a little bit...??" You beg Papyrus, having been sober for too long.

"NO. THE CONSEQUENCES WILL BE DIRE IF I DISCOVER YOU SNEAKING ANY..." He replies from behind his desk, spinning on his new spinny chair. You found it in a consignment shop, but he doesn't need to know it's not brand new. "DO TRY TO STAY OUT OF TROUBLE, PLEASE." He sighs.

You stick your tongue at him. "I've been being good!"

"NOT ACCORDING TO RICHARD, YOU HAVEN'T..." He says; you slap your face, you were kind of hoping he wouldn't bring that dick up.

"Okay, so I was a little bad. But he deserved that!"

Papyrus stops spinning to glare at you. "YOU THREW HIM OUT A _WINDOW_!!"

"He called me a pet!" You retort, telling only half of the truth. "I'm not a pet!"

Papyrus groans, pressing a hand to his head. "OKAY, SO HE DESERVED IT. BUT I CAN PUNISH MY OWN EMPLOYEES!"

"Are you upset because you didn't get to throw anybody out a window?" You inquire.

He looks at you with a dangerous glint. "MAYBE I WILL..."

"Bye." You turn to walk out, making a strategic retreat. Bones block your path. "What??" When you look at him again, he has an evil grin twisting his jaws and a thrill twists your gut.

"YOU'VE BEEN A VERY BAD HUMAN..." He says ominously. "TALKING BACK, DISOBEYING ORDERS, YOUR INSOLENCE ALONE WOULD HAVE GOTTEN YOU KILLED AGES AGO IF YOU WERE ONE OF MY EMPLOYEES..."

"Really, now...?" You reply coyly, smirking. "What're you gonna do about it??" _You're not his fucking pet._

He surges from his seat and strides towards you, grabbing the lapels of your jacket and lifting you onto your toes. "YOU HAVE ONE CHANCE TO GET OUT."

You bare your teeth and growl low and guttural. "Do your worst."

"FOR MY MAGNIFICENCE IN DEIGNING TO BESTOW THIS DISCIPLINE ON YOU, YOU WILL EXPRESS GRATITUDE AND APPRECIATION, AND NO NOISE OF COMPLAINT OR BEGGING..." He snarls back. "UNDERSTOOD??"

"Understood! Thank you." You struggle in his grip, just enough for him to shake you like a dog shakes a rat.

"THE CODE FOR STOP IS 'BLUE'. USE IT BEFORE YOU REACH YOUR LIMIT, NOT AFTER." He commands. "YOU DO KNOW YOUR LIMIT, DON'T YOU??"

"Blood." You say immediately. "I'll let you know if it's too much pain, but no blood or anything that will impede my work, like broken bones."

"I AM GLAD YOU ARE NOT ONE OF THOSE FOOLS WHO SAY THEY HAVE NONE... I WAS SLIGHTLY WORRIED."

"Please~ I _do_ follow proper safety procedures..." You pout at him. "Besides, I'm usually on the other end of the stick. I know the type and they're super annoying, always assuming they're in total control..."

"I HOPE YOU REALIZE THE AMOUNT OF CONTROL YOU HAVE OVER THIS SCENE..." He scowls in your face.

"Enough that you'll stop if I ask nicely~" You poke his forehead and he snaps at your finger, startling you.

"REMEMBER WHAT I SAID??"

"Uh... thank you..." You remember just in time. "Thanks for your mercy, oh great and terrible Don...!" You inject a wavering note, sinking willingly into the sea of terror lapping at your ribs.

He lets you down and steps forward, forcing you to step back until your back is against the wall. His arms block you from dodging to either side. "YOU DARED CROSS ME... DO YOU KNOW WHAT I DO TO DISOBEDIENT HUMANS...??"

"Oh, magnificent Don, thank you for your kindness in disciplining me..." Not begging is going to be hard... you rather like begging, and it's easier than coming up with new ways to praise him. But since he likes praise and must be sick of begging, you humor him, _wolfdog, an' ever'body damn well knows it_. He growls, running a hand around your throat and pressing his gloved fingers into your skin lightly.

"THAT'S RIGHT..." A dark purr rumbles from his ribcage. "MY... _KINDNESS_. I NOTICE, SHURA... YOU NEVER MENTIONED TICKLING..." His other hand rests gently on your abdomen.

Actual terror cuts deep, tensing every muscle, but you don't safeword yet.Tickling... it's just so undignified and humiliating, and not in the fun way. It's just unpleasant. "U-uh... I'm sure in your great wisdom, your grace can come up with something more creative... than _that._ " You barely avoid spitting the last word.

Papyrus must see you're intensely uncomfortable with the prospect, and, mercifully, he changes his mind. "YOU ARE RIGHT, I CAN THINK OF MANY HARSHER PUNISHMENTS. I CAN BE VERY CREATIVE, SHURA..."

He pinches your ribs suddenly, just under your arm and you squeak, then realize your mistake as his eyes darken. "Thank you!" You say quickly, smiling fearfully. "Much more creative, indeed!"

"THAT'S RIGHT..." He pinches you again, harder. "WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY??"

"Thi- this is- uh- very- eek!" He keeps attacking you with pinches as you try to complete your sentence, and you start to giggle. "Th- ow, thank you- you're quite- very strong!"

"uh... boss?"

You dodge behind Papyrus as he whips around to stomp towards the door, his body tense with fury hiding embarrassment. "WHAT?? HAVEN'T YOU HEARD OF KNOCKING??"

"haven't opened the door yet, boss..." Sans replies from outside.

"WE-WELL, DON'T DISTURB ME WHEN I'M IN THE MIDDLE OF REPRIMANDING SOMEONE!!"

"didn't sound like ya were 'reprimandin' 'em, boss..." Sans seems to be trying to hold back a note of amusement. _Dog, he just keeps you around cause you-_

Papyrus looks ready to explode. "Um, sorry, that was... for my scene in a play!" You lie. "Papyrus was... helping me practice..."

"YES, THAT'S WHAT WAS HAPPENING. THE ONLY SCENE WE WERE ENGAGING IN WAS FOR THE PLAY, THE THEATRE PLAY!!" Papyrus goes along with it.

"sure, boss... can i come in now? or do ya need to pull up yer pants..."

Papyrus slams open the door and Sans falls in, laughing to himself. "WE WERE NOT ENGAGING IN SUCH!!" The taller brother shrieks. "THE MERE SUGGESTION OF DOING SUCH AN ACTION WITH A FILTHY HUMAN REPULSES ME AND YOU KNOW IT, SANS!!"

"What the hell...??" _"filthy human"... "pet"... You're not sure which is worse._ "You..." You almost spit _freak_ to try to lash out at him, but you just barely resist, realizing it won't work... and that's something your aunt would do, anyway. "You have no fucking right to say that!!" 

"DON'T I??" He demands angrily, defensively offensive. You shouldn't push him, but...

"No, goddamn it, you can't call your friend fucking _filthy!!_ "

"I JUST DID." He snarls back. "WHAT, I DIDN'T HURT YOUR _FEELINGS_ , DID I??" _Filthy pet_.

"if ya need me ta give you two space..." And you glare with stinging eyes at Sans before stomping out. Papyrus doesn't stop you. You stomp a bit harder, a bit faster, nearly running out.

You're blind with rage _pain_ as you stride through the streets, not sure where you're going. _Pet._ Is that how everyone sees you?? You're not his pet... He's not your fool. _He's not your anything._

Doesn't he care for you, doesn't he feel anything for you, after everything you've done with him?? He said he was your friend! _Filthy human..._ Is that how he sees you?? Just another waste of space... who only happens to be useful??

Why do you even care...? You don't. You're not _hurt._ You can't be hurt with stupid words like that, _Filthy human_. _Wolfdog. Pet._ You're used to insults, used to giving as good as you get.

You need a fucking drink. Who cares what fucking Papyrus said...?? He's not the boss of you. _And so what if it'll put you in danger, you love danger, you love terror and anger and living._

And then a barrage of gunfire rings out, shattering the peace. And you have a much better idea to _rebel_ get back at him. It doesn't fucking matter if you die. He'll just find another filthy human to use.

The moon shines down through the limpid sky as you weave through alleys, struggling to see past the rain falling in your eyes, filling your nose and heating your cheeks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus, probably: ME?? APOLOGIZE??
> 
> Shura might be overreacting, but they're pretty impetuous anyway...
> 
> (theory: Papyrus did all that, said all that, just because he was really upset that he didn't get to throw anyone out a window...)
> 
> Also... so remember that time in DSTM when... spoiler: metaphor happens (it's pointed out in the AN, too)? Similar metaphor happened in this chapter. 
> 
> This story is definitely going to be way shorter than SixthSeason's, because I'm not up to writing a novel-length story yet and I'm horrible at pacing. But there will be roadblocks ;P


	10. My Heart And My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> violence,

The fight is between a squad of police and at least six Bells, across from a flashy theatre. You go around behind the Bells, taking cover and then picking them off with shots to their chests and legs. They turn their attention to you, and that leaves them open for the police to move in.

They're swiftly dispatched. You come out of cover and nod to the police when they recognize you. There's a flamboyant red android in the street, with holes sparking in his torso and legs. The police seem ready to call an ambulance, but you know him and you have use for him. 

So you step forward and pick him up in your arms. He groans, a synthesized glitching sound. "I'll take him." You say. "Make sure you question the live bastards about an opium den. I know these crooks, they're a new gang, call themselves the Dirty Bells."

The police thank you and go to arrest and bodybag the criminals as you carry Mettaton away in the opposite direction, to a hospital where you know the creator of his body, Alphys, works. "You owe me..." You mutter to the robot.

"Th-a-ank yo-ou, da-arling~" Mettaton moans.

In the hospital's lobby, you drop the heavy mass of metal unceremoniously onto a couch and he swoons. "A-Alphys, da-a-arling!!" He seems to be talking through a radio produced from thin air.

"Wh-what now... Mettaton...??" A voice crackles through the radio. "I- I'm busy..." 

Mettaton explains in flowery melodramatic language that he's been injured and Alphys responds coldly. The robot pouts, synthetic lips full and glistening. "Alphys, Alphys, darling...~~" He murmurs into the radio, glitch gone.

"Y-y-yes?" The crackling voice sounds nervous.

"Think of my dear admirers... so-o wo-orried f-for the con-condition of thei-ir star..." Mettaton simpers. You bite back a huff.

"Al- al- fine." She says shortly.

Eventually, a yellow dinolizard in a white lab coat comes out of the locked doors. She scans you with disinterest and then moves on to inspect Mettaton. Then she snaps at you and commands you to carry him.

You obey, lifting the hunk of metal and melodrama once more and following Alphys into the locked doors, deep into the hospital, into a private lab filled with scary-looking machinery. Leaning against the wall, you stand guard as she fixes Mettaton, until she snaps again and demands you hand her tools. So that's how you end up becoming her assistant, digging through the piles of papers and parts to find obscure tools or pieces.

Finally, she kicks the robot and tells him to take a week's vacation. The two have an argument of her stammering out objections to his working and him smoothly weaving around her points. You stand by, waiting for someone to notice you.

Then you decide to stop waiting. "What's my pay?" You interrupt. "If I can keep Mettaton distracted from work for a week?" Mettaton presses a hand to his mouth in astonishment. You realize how your words sounded, but ignore the heat of your neck. "Not like that, idiot. I can keep him busy with less demanding work." You have the perfect idea. "How do you feel about fake-dating to dethrone a racist mayor?"

"Marvelous~!!" Mettaton squeals. "But aren't you fake-dating someone already?? I'd hate to pretend to get between you two..."

How does he know about that?? "She won't mind... she suggested it, actually." You say, using the wrong pronouns to see if he's bluffing.

Mettaton's metal eyelids flutter. " _He_ , darling. You can't trick me. I'm rather... _close_ to Papyrus... You could even say I'm his future _real_ paramour." 

The tightness in your chest is due to his annoying presumption that Papyrus would ever think him worthy of dating, _but at least he's not a filthy human..._ and the irritating confident lilt of his voice. "Yeah, well, maybe you can _pretend_ this'll make him jealous." You respond coldly.

"Oh, I _believe_ it will make someone jealous..." He simpers. Damn, this is going to be a long week... Papyrus is gonna be pissed... no alcohol... and this fucking primadonna.

But hey, who the hell is stopping you from getting a drink now??

####

Clover's. You want Papyrus to know you're rebelling. You want him to be pissed. You'll get buzzed there, make sure the Syndicate sees you, and then leave to another bar. You sit in your favorite booth and ask for a strong drink, then scowl at Anita's frown from behind the counter.

When the waitress returns with your drink, you taste it and... the bartender watered it down. Thanks a lot... How are you supposed to get drunk on watered down alcohol?? Anita glares at you and you glare back.

At least it's something, though, after almost a month of being sober. You drink it quickly, hoping it will hit your system faster that way. The waitress comes and says you can't have any more. But that's okay, because you're buzzed now. So you get up and stagger out, waving to Anita, who crosses her arms and scowls, for all the world channeling _Papyrus_ , who is the last person you want to think about right now...

You roam the streets, looking for another bar and something else... a fight? More alcohol? The latter sounds better than a fight currently, in this state you're still too cognizant to lose in a fight. Not that you want to lose _badly_ , just... get beat up a bit, maybe. You find another bar and sit in the back, behind an assortment of people, humans and monsters.

After drinking a couple of glasses, you can say you're probably drunk, and after a few more, you can say the coming migraine will probably kill you before Papyrus does. In front of you, the group starts to talk about stuff pertaining to weapons. 

You pipe up when they make an obviously flawed suggestion to get more weapons into the city, slurring drunkenly as you explain your very clear and unorthodox plan to them. They might be laughing at you, but then again, they could be laughing at all the jokes you put into the plan. Angered by their dismissal of you, you stagger to your feet, pay your bill with a tip, and start to sashay out, only tripping on every other table. And sometimes thin air.

A hand grabs your arm and you kick at the person gripping you, a bird monster, "Hey, don't I _know_ you??" The monster demands.

"No~ 'm jes' a _filthy human..._ " You beep his nose and giggle at him, kicking again.

"Hey, guys... think that bastard detective we killed isn't quite _dead_ yet..." He calls to his friends, then points out a jagged scar above his beak. "Your _boyfriend_ gave me this... I'm gonna have _so much fun_ with you..."

You frown, pricked and dangerous. "'e's no' m' _fool_... 'n'm no' 'is _pet_." And then with the completely unerring accuracy of someone who is totally drunk, you knee the bird in the groin, then pause with your leg still up to wonder if birds get the same pain as humans when hit in that location...

You decide that humans definitely get hurt more when the bird punches your crotch and you trip and double over, keening. The bird's fellows laugh and you're filled with blind rage, forcing past the pain. You punch the bird with all your hatred.

His eyes go wide as your fist connects with the side of his beak. And then he shatters. And there's a shout as you're grabbed by multiple hands at once and dragged out of the bar, filled by the exhilaration of _living_.

They shout at you, yelling and jeering as they throw you to the ground in an alley and advance on you. It's all incomprehensible as you fight the five people at once, punching and biting and kicking.

They cut you, beat you, jeering and laughing, punishing you for the death of their fellows, punishing you for living.

You struggle against them futilely, getting weaker and weaker as the beating continues.

 _Filthy human._ The words hurt more than the beating. More than the weakness.

Rain chokes your throat, drowning you in writhing furious sobs.

And then you fall limp. Submitting. Broken.

 _Filthy human, weak, pet. Unreliable, reckless, wolfdog._

And the truth is... you realize... you never could care... because nobody else cares.

Blackness starts to descend at the edges of your vision, tunneling in as you focus on your hatred and pain.

And your one regret... a rather drunken regret, as you think about it, is that you never got to kiss anyone. Never got to love anyone. Never shared a true camaraderie, a romance, a deep understanding of give-and-recieve.

Papyrus flashes in your mind and a painful feeling associates with the thought of him. Hatred, you assume, but hatred is colder. This feeling is hot and sharp like a knife. Like a dagger in your heart.

"Pl-please..." You murmur brokenly and they laugh at you, thinking you're begging for your life. _Please... Papyrus... somebody... care..._

You want to die, don't you? You should die, shouldn't you? Hatred spikes through you, desire for more pain to be piled on you before you're allowed to sink into the peace of silence. _Please..._

But...

 

Nobody...

 

Came...

  

...?  

 

" **GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM THEM!** "

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus, probably: HOW DARE THEY ENDANGER THEMSELF AGAIN??


	11. And My Mind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so unhealthy mentality and aftereffects of the insults, driven into them by the alcohol and their own deeply hidden self-hatred..

Even through the drunken haze, beautiful electric _fluffy_ terror burns the painful emotion away.The five attackers drop you and advance on the skeleton standing in the entrance of the alley, both eyes blazing, flickering between deep purple and bright green.

Shots ring out as the gangsters try in vain to fight off the epitome of magnificent fell doom. His dagger flashes silver in the moonlight, the full extent of his awful ire felt in the terrifyingly powerful intent oppressing the atmosphere.

Each gangster falls, either from a cracking shot or a stab. Papyrus isn't holding a gun, so you're not sure who's with him. Maybe his brother. Shame and guilt burns you, making you want to sink into the trash like the filth you are.

Sirens blare in the distance and Sans appears next to you, grabbing your arm. Then the alley disappears and you're shaking on the cold linoleum floor of the hideout, sobbing, angry, warm _._ Sans disappears again and then reappears with the boss, who goes to his desk, cleaning his blade carefully before returning it to its sheath.

"SANS..." His harsh voice cuts clean and succinctly through the haze surrounding your mind. "I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO BRING THEM TO A HOSPITAL..."

"eh, they're not hurt that badly... figured you'd want to punish'em..."

A sharp clack sounds and Sans mutters, "ow, hey, _boss_ , what gives??"

"I TOLD YOU, YOU FOOL, THEY NEED TO GO TO THE GODDAMNED HOSPITAL, THEY ARE INJURED!!" Papyrus rages. "I CAN JUST AS FUCKING WELL PUNISH THEM _AFTER_ THEY ARE FULLY RECOVERED FROM THEIR INJURIES. THEY MIGHT HAVE INTERNAL BLEEDING!!"

"okay, okay, sheesh." Sans grabs your arm again, gripping your bruised limb a bit too tight to be painless.

And then you're in a sterile white room and Alphys shrieks, dropping her ramen. Heh... You might laugh at that, but she glares at you, and that only makes you laugh more.

You're strapped to a table and wires and tubes are poked into you, Alphys poking and prodding your body. You flinch when she tries to cut off your clothes, starting to beg and weep because the cloth is stuck to your bloody skin. Sans disappears.

Alphys gives up on getting your clothes off when you start to tear out the tubes to stop her, growling incomprehensibly. And then, "SHURA. ALLOW HER TO REMOVE YOUR CLOTHES."

Your face reforms into a disgruntled scowl, but you lay back and submit to your bloody clothes being stripped off. "F- f'ck ya..." You whimper angrily. ""m no' a _pet._ "

A hand rests on your head, slightly too heavy to be gentle, but just light enough to be comforting. "YOU ARE NOT A PET, THAT IS CORRECT. YOU ARE A HUMAN. YOU MUST OBEY ME CAREFULLY, HOWEVER, OR YOUR FUTURE PAIN WILL BE INCREASED."

You laugh, hurting as the sound jolts your cuts and bruises and aching bones. "'ow're ya gonna _punish_ yer _filthy human..._ i' al're'y 'urts like _f'ckng 'ell."_ Spit mockingly, pushing him to do his worst.

His deep black sockets flicker with something. Something you can't quite figure out in your drunken state. "Ya go's no f'ckng right' ta be so _beau'iful..."_ You continue, bemoaning, _he's no filthy human_... ""r so goddamn _bitchy_... wh' tha f'ck gave ya the righ'??"

"SILENCE." He scowls, the flicker gone, disappeared into the stormy depths.

"No...!" You glare at him. He's pissed at you, congratulations, and you're pretty pissed at yourself too. And at him. Yeah. That's what that warm feeling in your chest is. Resentment...

He stalks up to your bed and leans over you, resting his fingers around your throat as a warning. "YOU WILL BE _SILENT_ OR I WILL HAVE ALPHYS KEEP YOU IN THE HOSPITAL FOR AN ENTIRE MONTH, AND YOU WON'T BE ALLOWED TO _WORK_."

You're struck dumb, silenced by the looming knowledge that for some reason _not working_ would be bad.

"UNDERSTAND??" The glint of an evil smile twitches on his jaws. You nod angrily. "GOOD... DO YOU REALIZE HOW FURIOUS I AM WITH YOU...?"

You pretend to think for a moment, and then stop trying to hide the smirking grin which makes your lips lopsided. "won'... won' do it ag'n..." The words come out insolent, pushing your once-friend's already short temper to the edge.

"GODDAMNED RIGHT, YOU WON'T... NOT FOR AT LEAST, OH, HOWEVER LONG IT TAKES FOR FUCKING _BROKEN LEGS_ TO HEAL..." He snarls.

And you're delighted. You're delighted by the unbearably keen pain in your chest, the panic setting in, because you _lost him_ , you _ruined everything_ , you _lost_. "Th'nk ya..." You say seriously. "No' gonna cry... won'... won'- cry-" And you proceed to break the promise with ugly sobbing hyperventilating pain, shame and hatred and warmth burning till there's nothing left of you but piercing agony, tight lungs, blackening vision.

The hand around your neck squeezes your breath into a controlled rhythm, words counting. You focus, breath in: one, two, three, four. Hold: one two three four five six. Breathe out: one two three four. Repeat. Hang onto the comfort of his touch, the cold ungloved hand around the thump thump of oxygen and blood.

"YOU WILL ANSWER MY QUESTIONS, SAYING NO MORE AND NO LESS THAN NECESSARY."

You nod slightly in agreement, the tightness fading but still present. "'kay..."

"WHY DID YOU GO DIRECTLY TO A GODDAMNED FIREFIGHT??" He demands. "AFTER I HAVE SPECIFICALLY TOLD YOU TO FUCKING _STAY AWAY_ FROM THOSE??"

"Ta piss ya off..." You slur proudly. "c'z 'm a f'ckng _filthy human..._ "

His eyes once again flicker with something you can't figure out. "AND I SUPPOSE YOU WENT TO CLOVER'S AFTERWARDS AND DRANK TO DO THE SAME THING..." He says.

You nod in reply, smirking. His hand tightens around your throat, just enough to be painful without making it too hard to breathe, and your smirk grows.

"YOU _SUCCEEDED_..." The growl is guttural and burns into your soul. "DAMN YOU, SHURA, DO YOU EVEN FUCKING REALIZE HOW CLOSE YOU CAME TO _DYING_ TONIGHT...??"

"Y-yeah..." You stammer, smirk dropping into uncertain fear at the direction. "bu'... ya don' wan' me..." Your indecisive mood goes dark. "ya ne'er wan'ned me... no' a _filthy hu-gck"_

His hand cuts off the word, loosening immediately afterwards. "NO." He says and he almost sounds regretful. But that can't be right... "YOU... ARE _NOT_ FILTHY. I SAID THAT... BECAUSE I WAS EMBARRASSED BY MY BROTHER. _"_

You glare at him. ""m jes' a filthy wolfdog, then... jes' a pet..."

"RICHARD'S WORDS SHOULDN'T FUCKING MATTER TO YOU, YOU ARE NOT A PET, AND THAT MUCH IS OBVIOUS, YOU... UGH!!"He groans, letting go of your neck to slap a hand to his head, groaning. "I AM GOING TO SERIOUSLY PUNISH YOU FOR THIS FUCKING SHIT AND IT WILL NOT BE THE FUN KIND, EITHER!!"

"wan' m' fr'nd back..." You slur sadly. "please... jes' wan' a f'ckng hug..."

"SANS, ALPHYS." Papyrus snaps. The two turn to him, Sans from where he was texting someone and Alphys from stitching up the last of your cuts. "LEAVE FOR A MOMENT. I HAVE SOMETHING TO SAY TO SHURA."

"kay, boss... jes' no kissing... they look pretty bruised there already..."

Papyrus screeches and tries to cuff Sans for the insolence but the smaller skeleton just smirks and disappears. Alphys snips the last stitch and bows before exiting through the door.

Vague trepidation fills your bones as he turns back to you with a fierce glare. "Wha'?? Tha 'ell do ya wanna say ta me in f'cking pr-... f'cking _alone_??"

He explodes, a truly impressive sight. "DO YOU EVEN FUCKING _CARE_ ABOUT ANYONE OTHER THAN _YOURSELF_??"

You drop your head to your chest, trying to think. "Y-..." you stop yourself and pause again, glancing guiltily up at him. 

"HM!! HOW SURPRISING!!" The mocking words cut you.

"you..." You growl, angered. "tha 'eavens f'ck ya, _you!_ "

Hurt flashes in his sockets. Of all things, hurt was not what you expected. Papyrus doesn't let himself get hurt. And why would that hurt him, anyway?? You're drunk, you're misreading.

"PROVE IT, THEN! STOP- JUST STOP..."

"Liv'n?? sure..." You slur heartlessly. "Jes' gimme a goddamn _gun_... even be'er, jes take out these fucking _stitches_ and lemme bleed ta death..."

He looms over you, fury radiating from every line. "STOP BEHAVING LIKE YOU'RE THE ONLY FUCKING PERSON WHO _MATTERS_!!"

Your mouth does a shocked monkey impression, making a soft 'oh'.

"STOP TRYING TO ACT LIKE YOUR OWN EXCITEMENT IS THE ONLY GODDAMNED THING YOU CARE ABOUT!!" He continues, and you shrink into the bed, the beginnings of a migraine beginning to pound at the edge of your skull.

"Damn it..." You complain petulantly. "hurts..."

"I HOPE IT DOES." He says cruelly. "I HOPE IT FUCKING HURTS LIKE HELL, BECAUSE WHEN I'M THROUGH WITH YOU, THIS WILL SEEM LIKE A GODDAMNED _SPA_.

"DO YOU FUCKING REALIZE WHAT KIND OF DANGER MY SYNDICATE COULD BE IN IF THEY _CAPTURED_ YOU?? _TORTURED_ YOU FOR INFORMATION??NO. YOU JUST GOT _OFFENDED_ AND DECIDED TO DO THE _TWO THINGS_ **I** **SPECIFICALLY** **TOLD** **YOU** **TO** **_NOT_** **_DO_** _!!"_

His harsh volume makes the spears of the headache descend with unerring accuracy into your brain, and a sharper blade to pierce your chest, and you can't even grip your head or heart to ease the pain, as Alphys has strapped your wrists to the bed. You can only cry and shake your head futilely.

"YOU SHOULD HAVE REALIZED I MEANT NOTHING BY MY COMMENT!! THERE WAS NO CALL FOR YOU TO PISS ME OFF LIKE THIS. BADLY DONE, SHURA!! _BADLY_ DONE." The pain in your chest intensifies.

"L-love ya, too, P'pyrus..." You snarl, upset and guilty.

"..."

"...I WILL REPRIMAND YOU FURTHER WHEN YOU ARE SOBER. THE ALCOHOL AND FIGHT HAS CLEARLY CONFUSED YOU." He finally says, stiff and formal. Cold.

"sorry..." You murmur, grieving and hurting. "'m sorry for bein' an ass... 's no wonder ya don' like me..." You close your eyes tiredly and wait for him to leave. His presence remains. You slowly drift off...

Only to hear him eventually say, almost softly, "I _DO_ AND I _HATE_ IT... YOU GODDAMNED FUCKER..."

A triumphant smile twists your lips. He growls and stomps out, probably with a red face. You hope his face is red. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But hey, at least he almost apologized?? 
> 
> Bonus points if you can name the allusion i did. hint: Papyrus references one of Jane Austen's books.


	12. Stand A Little Taller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> misgendering, and all the other assholery that comes with the aunt.

In the morning, after your migraine has subsided, Mettaton comes to visit you in the hospital, swooning over his poor wounded (fake) datemate... he has a paparazzi outside the window taking pictures... You hope the pictures go to the newspaper your aunt reads. You tell Mettaton this and he flutters his eyelashes and says "Of course, darling~ No worries, I've done my research... But it seems you won't be keeping me away from work, now, hmm?"

You grab his shoulder and pull him down for the camera's benefit, growling where his ear should be, "That's what you think... You're going to help me out with solving cases." You'll keep him away from the more incriminating Syndicate work, only having him help you with the vanilla cases. 

"Oh~ho, drama, intrigue, _mystery..._ " Mettaton purrs. "What a perfect way to spend this week..."

You have literally nothing to do other than sit around, try to solve cases, and debate with Mettaton. Of course, the toaster wouldn't call it debating, he's too much of a narcissist to consider that he's in the wrong, so you're basically raging at a brick wall admiring at itself in the mirror.

You're bored when Mettaton leaves. And then you're not.

Because your _fucking aunt_ shows up in the door. The nurses didn't even let you know so that you could say 'fuck no, i do not want to be bothered by this shitpiece of a relative'... she probably got a free pass for being the mayor...

And oh shit, she looks _furious._ "What happened, Vladimir?? I demand an explanation!! I will not let you continue in this horrible line of work if it ends in you being _injured_ like this!! Or... or was it your _girlfriend...??_ " 

Great. Call damage control, there's a breakage in the sewer system and all her bullshit is spewing out. "Hey, Aunt Nadia. I just got jumped, it's no big deal."

"I should say it is!!" She says indignantly. "If it means you can't attend the rehearsal!!"

You freeze. "That- uh... was today, was it?"

"Tomorrow!" She stomps her foot and you wince for her benefit.

Hide your glee. Hide it. "Oh, I'm sorry, Aunt. I won't be able to make it..."

Nadia smiles primly, a vicious look when worn by her. "Oh, yes, you will. And you'll bring your _beast_ with you. I've already talked to the doctors and they've agreed to discharge you _tonight_."

"But!" You start to protest, then hold your tongue because once she's made up her mind about something, she never changes it unless you have some leverage over her. "I... can't. Bring Papyrus. H- She's, uh... sick."

"Then who was that abomination I saw visiting you??" She demands and you bite back a shocked huff of laughter. "Your girlfriend is very well able to come to the rehearsal if she is well enough to visit you."

Does... does she not remember?? Does she seriously think _Mettaton_...?? Well, that makes things easier for the dinner to break her... "Oh. Ri-ight... Uh, he's actually a guy."

"Poo poo, those freaks don't have proper sexes. It doesn't matter as long as she is dumped after the election..." She waves it off and continues misgendering Papyrus/Mettaton.

"Oh, _he_ will be." You promise with gritted teeth. Mettaton will be quite thoroughly dumped, at least...

She shoots you with a stern glare and you remember the reason you had gone along with her misgendering Papyrus so long ago. Right. Political influence. "How's your new secretary?" You change the subject unsubtly.

She preens. "Oh-" You tune her out and wish Papyrus could be here instead. Even if he doesn't think of you as his friend anymore, it would be better than listening to her blatant disrespect of everyone who doesn't fit into her perfect little boxes.

She mercifully leaves, _finally_. And then, then you're bored.

"I WILL GO AND SEE THEM, I DON'T CARE IF VISITING HOURS ARE OVER!! THAT'S EXACTLY WHY I CAME AT THIS TIME, SO MOVE ASIDE!!"

Papyrus stomps in, trailed by a concerned nurse. "I- I'm sorry, Vl-" You interrupt the nurse with a raised hand and he trails off.

"Shura." You correct. "And he is welcome, unlike my bitch of an aunt, who I _distinctly_ remember being allowed back here _without_ my consent."

Papyrus scowls at the nurse, who shrinks back with a muttered apology and excuse. Then he turns the stern look onto you, who remains unflinching. "THIS IS UNACCEPTABLE, SHURA!! HOW THE HELL DID YOU GET YOUR DOCTORS TO AGREE TO _DISCHARGE_ YOU _TONIGHT??_ "

"That wasn't me, it was my aunt." You gladly throw her under the bus. "My cousin's wedding rehearsal is tomorrow. You think I fucking _want_ to go there like this?" You can't really keep the anger out of your voice.

Papyrus comes closer, right up to the side of your bed, surveying the cast on your leg and the bandages on the injuries from your beating. "I DESPISE THAT WOMAN MORE EVERY DAY... BUT I HAVE A SOLUTION, EVEN IF IT WILL BE UNPLEASANT FOR YOU."

"Do it, please. Whatever the fuck it is..." You groan. "Anything to piss her off..."

"EAT WHATEVER THE NURSE GIVES YOU AND IT WILL ALL WORK OUT." Papyrus's wickedness shines through his grin. A thrill down your spine combines with the slight queasy apprehension in your gut.

"Poison, huh... Heh, I'll take it. Thanks, Papyrus." You don't smile, refusing to grant any friendly emotion while you're still in an argument with him.

"YOU ARE WELCOME, HOWEVER, THE REAL REASON I CAME HERE WAS... WAS TO SAY..." His cheekbones are slightly tinged pink. "GODDAMN IT, JUST GET BETTER AND PREPARE YOURSELF FOR A PUNISHMENT..." The tinge of red disappears into his typical scowl.

His initial rage has cooled, but he's still pissed off. You can't really remember all what he said last night, or even all that happened, but you're sure he'd be happy to repeat it...

"Okay..." You reply coldly. "But you get punished too."

"WHAT??" He rages. "NO, I DON'T-"

"You pissed me off." You reply petulantly. "If you get to punish me for pissing you off, then I get to punish you for pissing me off. It's only fair."

"THERE IS, HOWEVER, A DISCREPANCY IN THE SCALE. YOU ENDANGERED YOURSELF AND THE SYNDICATE, WHILE I MERELY OFFENDED YOU... AND I HAD THE SPINE TO APOLOGIZE!! WHEREAS YOU DIDN'T."

"I don't remember that..." You growl.

"YOU WERE DRUNK, YOU DON'T REMEMBER ANYTHING." He says dismissively.

"Fine. I'm fucking _sorry._ Happy??"

"NOT VERY... BUT IT IS NO MATTER, YOU WILL BE REPEATING YOUR PATHETIC _SORRY_ TO NO AVAIL WHEN I PUNISH YOU..."

"Oh, so I'm _pathetic_ now, am I??"

"N- YES?? YOU ARE A GODDAMNED _BRAT_ , SHURA..." He looms over you, growling the next words, "AND I WOULDN'T HAVE IT ANY OTHER WAY..."

Your body heats at the tone, the words, the blazing in his eyes.

"I'M NOT GOING TO GO EASY ON YOU THIS TIME..." He says ominously.

"Please, _don't_. Not your pet..." You mutter.

"I AM GOING TO IGNORE THAT THIS ONCE. THE NEXT TIME YOU SAY IT, THE CONSE-"

"Yeah, will be dire, got it..." You cut him off, tired.

"YES." He growls.

"You have to give me a hug."

"WHAT??"

"After you punish me, your punishment is to give me a hug." You reply petulantly. "And apologize for calling me a filthy human."

"..."

"I WILL... CONSIDER IT. PERHAPS. IF YOU ARE GOOD..." He allows, and that's the best you're going to get. "I SUPPOSE NEXT TIME WE WILL HAVE TO FIND A MORE PRIVATE PLACE."

You're both shocked and thrilled by the peace offering, the chance to resume the friendship. But you can't take it without a condition. "Just... no more insults... I'm not into humiliation." You try to put the words into a joking tone, but it falls flat.

"VERY WELL... YOU WERE DOING WELL, I SUPPOSE, BEFORE SANS INTERRUPTED."

" _Well_?? Do you know how hard it is to come up with creative praises on the fly?? While being pinched to death??" You demand, hiding a smile behind a stern scowl.

"N-NO?? WHY WOULD I?? THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS IS THE BEST AT DOMMING!! I HAVE NO NEED TO EXPERIENCE THE WEAKNESS OF SUBBING..."

"Scared to, you mean..." You poke him. "You're scared~ to be vulnerable~" 

"AM- AM NOT!! I AM NOT _SCARED_ OF ANYTHING!! IF I _TRUSTED_ SOMEONE, I _MIGHT_ ALLOW THEM TO TAKE CONTROL IF THEY ASKED NICELY!! BUT THERE'S NOBODY I CAN _TRUST_ , NOW, IS THERE..." He pinches you, winning the argument.

"Yeah, well..." You mumble, losing ungracefully. "Fuck you too."


	13. In Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> punishment

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OKAY, Y'ALL!! I have majorly edited up from chapter 3, so if you don't want to be slightly confused, you may want to reread from there. I added in fluff, and divided up chapters, and in general tried to fix things up. The major diversion, though, starts after what is now chapter 8, I believe.

You eat all the food handed to you at dinner, unsure what, or who, is going to poison you. But it isn't long before you vomit and come down with a fever. The doctors call your aunt and tell her you can't be discharged. You milk the horrible sick feeling for all it's worth, lying limply and not responding immediately to stimuli. Your aunt comes down and yells at the doctors and you for a while, but you don't care.

The next day, you're better, but the doctors don't discharge you, saying they don't think your injuries are quite healed. So all you can do is sit back and hope Mettaton visits again. He does, bringing your work with him, and you spend a while 'debating' him and even solve a couple cases with his keen eye for detail.

However, you can not wait to be rid of him. He keeps boasting about what he's going to do with Papyrus once he has him as a boyfriend... It makes some sickness rise up in your gut to hear your friend talked about like a prize to be captured, but whenever you try to defend Papyrus's honor, Mettaton mocks you for being jealous. You're _not_ jealous, a relationship between you and the Boss would be totally impossible. You'd be completely fucking fine with Papyrus dating anyone he wants to date... except for fucking _Mettaton_.

He always leaves in the afternoon. Your aunt doesn't come in again, thankfully. Papyrus doesn't always come, sadly.

The week passes slowly. Papyrus visits every now and then, but he's busy so you can't expect a visit every day, neither can you expect him to stay for very long. He continues to threaten you with the coming punishment, and you're sick of him hiding exactly what he's going to do. You know the broken legs part, but the way he goes on, you think he has a more devious plan.

And then you're discharged, and your wounds are mostly healed through magic and you go to the hideout, staggering still and weak, but prepared... mostly.

Papyrus ignores you when you walk in, only gesturing for you to sit on the metal chair before his desk without looking up. Your eyes roll and you almost flip him off, but think better of it, not wanting to prod him into breaking your fingers as well.

It's about five minutes before you get sick of the power move. "Alright, already, just fucking do whatever it is you're planning..."

"SOMEBODY IS EAGER..." He retorts. "VERY WELL... HOW SHOULD I START..."

"By professing your undying love," You snark, and then add when he looks up with a scandalized glare, "To pasta."

"MY LOVE FOR PASTA EXTENDS FAR BEYOND YOUR MORTAL NOTIONS OF 'DEATH'." He replies coldly, the twitch of a smile digging at his jaws. "BUT BE SERIOUS NOW. WHAT DO YOU THINK I'M GOING TO DO...?"

Oh... "You will.. not let me off the hook, even if I say you will..." You start slowly. He nods.

"CORRECT... CONTINUE..."

"And you won't accept a joke punishment, or one with any severity lower than... at least tear-inducing pain... possibly not settling for anything less than scream-inducing... and there is no safeword." You say carefully.

He motions for you to continue, so far satisfied that you've figured out the terms. "EITHER WILL SATISFY ME, AS THAT IS MOSTLY RELATIVE AND DIFFERS FROM PERSON TO PERSON... AND YOU ARE CORRECT, THIS IS PUNISHMENT, THE JUST CONSEQUENCES FOR ENDANGERING THE SCINTILLATING SKELETAL SYNDICATE AND YOURSELF... NOT A SCENE. IT IS NOT MEANT TO BE ENJOYABLE."

"S-so..." You think, trying to find something that won't impede you from work. "Do- do you have a switch? Or... are you going to... break an arm...?"

"I WAS THINKING MORE BOTH LEGS." He replies; you lost the game by not thinking severe enough. "AND YES, I DO HAVE A SWITCH... WHY DON'T I WHIP YOU TILL YOU CRY AND THEN BREAK ONE LEG?"

"Th-that works..." You shudder, not enjoying the prospect at all, but one broken leg is better than two. "Th-... thanks..."

"ALRIGHT THEN. STAND UP AND REMOVE YOUR SHIRT, STANDING WITH YOUR HANDS BEHIND YOUR NECK. REMEMBER TO BREATHE STEADILY AND IT WILL HURT LESS." He says, rising from behind his desk and coming around.

"Yes." You take a deep breath and let it out, trying to calm the trepidation in your stomach. Alongside it is a warmth, a letting go of control. You could run away. You could hide or dodge or fight back. But you consent.

Not that it matters, and any of those options would only increase the inevitable punishment, but it makes you feel better, gives you a semblance of agency: that you're accepting whatever pain he decides to inflict on you. And the pretend negotiation helps solidify the illusion.

"I WILL NOT GO EASY ON YOU FOR BEING MY FRIEND, SHURA..." He warns and you nod agreement.

"Yeah, yeah, I don't want you to. I'm not your pet, after all." You retort.

"WHY THE HELL ARE YOU STILL HUNG UP ON THAT?? I THOUGHT YOU WOULD BE LESS EASILY OFFENDED THAN TO TAKE SOME RANDOM PERSON'S WORDS TO HEART!! TAKING MINE TO HEART MAKES SENSE, SINCE I AM OBVIOUSLY GREAT ENOUGH THAT YOU TRUST ME AND VALUE MY OPINION, BUT _RICHARD'S_??"

You mumble incoherent nonsense under your breath. Reputation is important to you. Appearance. And Richard suggested that the rest of the Syndicate views you as nothing more than a suck-up. A flattering voice kissing up to Papyrus to adversely influence him.

"ALRIGHT, I CHANGED MY MIND... YOU SEEM TO VALUE WORK FOR SOME REASON, SO YOU WILL NOT WORK AT YOUR JOB FOR TWO MONTHS, THE TIME IT TAKES A BROKEN LEG TO HEAL. INSTEAD, YOU WILL JOIN THE SYNDICATE AND WORK IN A TEAM, _COOPERATING_ WITH MY EMPLOYEES."

"Wait-" You cry involuntarily, cut deep. He glares at you but allows you to continue. "Please don't do that... I need my job..."

"NO. I WILL PROVIDE FOR YOU. OR IS THERE ANOTHER REASON YOU'RE CONCERNED...?"

"M-my reputation..." You confess. "I need to uphold it... I can't let people think I'm kissing up to you, either, Papyrus, you need to be severe!" You almost beg.

Papyrus gains a crafty look, like he's just solved a puzzle. "REALLY??" He purrs darkly. "DO YOU VALUE... _REPUTATION_... OVER EVEN FRIENDSHIP?? I THINK I REMEMBER ASKING YOU TO PROVE YOU CARE ABOUT ME... YOU SHOULD TAKE YOUR NEXT STEPS VERY CAREFULLY... OR I MIGHT GET A MUCH CRUELER IDEA..."

Damn him... Now that he mentions it, you have a hazy memory of that argument too. You try to hide your angry fear. "I'll do what you say." Struggling for calmness, you ask, "Please... don't make me do anything... _humiliating_."

"I WILL NOT, SINCE YOU ASK SO NICELY. BUT I BELIEVE I WILL PUT YOU IN THE EEL TEAM... AND IF I CATCH YOU FIGHTING WITH YOUR TEAM LEADER, THE CONSEQUENCES WILL BE SO SEVERE THAT ANY REMAINING DOUBTS ABOUT YOUR PLACE WILL BE BURNT AWAY."

"Don't get caught, got it..." You reply, trying for an insolent tone but it comes out dry.

He frowns. "IF THAT IS WHAT MY WORDS TRANSLATE TO FOR YOU, I HOPE FOR YOUR SAKE YOU SUCCEED IN 'NOT GETTING CAUGHT'... I WOULD PREFER YOU TO ABSTAIN ALTOGETHER. BUT THAT IS NOT THE LAST OF THE PUNISHMENT."

"Oh?" You let a grimace show.

"NO. YOU WILL OBEY MY EVERY _ORDER_ WITHOUT QUESTION, WITHOUT HESITATION, NO MATTER WHAT. THIS WILL LAST ONLY A MONTH, SINCE I DOUBT YOUR ABILITY TO SUCCEED. IF YOU MAKE THREE MINOR FAILURES OR ONE MAJOR FAILURE... HM. I WON'T _KILL_ YOU, BUT YOU MAY VERY WELL WISH I WOULD..."

And then his evil grin comes out full force. "BECAUSE OF THE SEVERITY OF THIS PUNISHMENT, AND ITS SHEER IMPOSSIBILITY FOR SOMEONE LIKE YOU TO SUCCEED... THERE WILL BE NO PHYSICAL PART UNLESS YOU FAIL. YOU WILL LEAVE THIS OFFICE UNHARMED." And now that you've said the damning words, told him that reputation is important to you, he knows exactly how much this hurts you.

You bow your head. You're trapped between being hated and being _hated_. If you fail purposefully, it will ruin your fragile friendship with Papyrus. If you do well, the rumors _Richard_ will seem to be confirmed. For a brief blazing moment, you hate him for putting you in this position. It feels like he's holding your friendship hostage... refusing to return it unless you submit to the pain of being despised by everyone.

" _Fine_ ," you spit, hiding the anxiety. "Should I go??"

"YES. YOU MAY LEAVE. TAKE CARE OF EVERYTHING TODAY, SAY YOU'RE ON VACATION, I DON'T CARE, BUT I EXPECT YOU HERE BRIGHT AND EARLY TOMORROW MORNING." He returns to his desk.

You stomp out angrily, furious with yourself and with him, and slam the door closed, struggling to control your breathing. You know a few people in the Syndicate, but none of them are close at all, merely acquaintances, friendly or otherwise.

Somehow, you've got to find some way of proving yourself to them and to him...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus: I AM DEFINITELY NOT GOING EASY ON YOU BECAUSE YOU'RE MY FRIEND!!  
> Shura: Good.  
> Papyrus: GOOD!! I'M SERIOUS!! NO MR. NICE GUY!! NOT EVEN IF YOU BEG!!  
> Shura: I don't want you to.  
> Papyrus: WELL, I WON'T!!  
> Papyrus: ...  
> Shura: ...  
> Papyrus: _Goes easy on them because they're his friend_


	14. Words Left Unsaid

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> double update because I haven't gotten out to completely new waters, still using some old scenes that have only gotten minor edits, but then there's also new scenes. The next chapter will be completely new.

You dress up in a fancy dress tonight, wanting your aunt to be as pissed as possible. Mettaton definitely will _not_ be referred to as female, either. Hey, you're preparing her for the wedding... Hm, wouldn't it be great if she could just be arrested and not go to the wedding at all?? (That... might be possible, actually, if you can get your duckling newspapers to follow the breadcrumbs you've set for them... They are not being very cooperative.)

Mettaton shows up and he's dressed in a tux and knee-high sharp black boots, (not nearly as handsome as Papyrus...) "Hey, _piston_." You sneer. Piston. Robot dick.

"Hello, _kitten~_ " He responds coyly with his own derogatory nickname for you. Kitten. Cute, but worthless and faithless. You sneer at him as you descend from the steps. "You look positively _gorgeous,_ darling~"

"You silver-tongued da-arling..." You stammer, mocking his occasional glitch.

He offers his arm and you take it, then gasp as he sweeps you into his arms bridal-style and takes off from the ground. He laughs at you, and you punch his arm, then complain because he's metal and it hurt your hand, possibly breaking your knuckles.

He flies to your aunt's house, landing in the begonias with a blast of rocketfire. The door opens, Aunt Nadia looking out and ready to yell, and then she sees you and Mettaton and her face pales.

Heh. A vicious glee fills your chest and almost forgives Mettaton for dropping you on the rocky ground. You bite back a screech of rage, hitting Mettaton's leg in retaliation. He smirks down at you and steps over you, subtly kicking your shoulder. " _damn_ _piston!_ " You hiss under your breath, and hear the whir of his synthesized voice replying quietly.

" _Fuck you, too~"_ Then he turns back to you and reaches two of his four hands down. You take them, not entirely trusting him. You walk up to the house with him beside you, one arm supporting you and the other three posing on his torso. "Greetings~ you must be my girlfriend's aunt~" He purrs to Nadia, whose face is completely blank.

"Y-yes, come- come in..." She says quietly, turning stiffly. Did she _not_ hear about this? Did your newspapers fail you? ....Wait, did Mettaton just call you his girlfriend?? And she didn't even react??

She has dinner set up already, the table set for two, candles on the mantelpiece... Oh ho... "Oh, my apologies, Nadia, did we interrupt something?" You ask sweetly.

Mettaton doesn't seem to be fazed at all, or even surprised. Nadia, however, shoots you a cold glance and nods shortly. "I met this sweet man a week ago-" Wait... that was when you met Mettaton... "And we started seeing each other."

You glance with suspicion at the robot. You would not put it past him to plant a paparazzi in your aunt's own home, but does he seriously think it will help break her?? "That's great, Nadia! We can have a do~uble da-ate~" You mock Mettaton, wishing he was Papyrus so you could step on his foot.

"Y-yes..." Nadia says, nervous. She's not even mentioning the fact that Papyrus was a _skeleton_... and Mettaton is a fucking _robot_.

A knock sounds at the door and Nadia preens herself for a moment before rushing to it with a warning glare to you. You're not sure what it's for, after all, you can be civil when you need to be.

And then she comes back in... leading... Wait... She's planning a murder. You know that as surely as you know that the man she's leading is Gruntle, a rival politician and a monster. He's stepped out of the running already, leaving his fellow politician Toriel to take on Nadia.

The question now is how she's going to try to kill Gruntle... is it poison? Or is she planning to get close and stab him in the back... You smile sweetly at her. She smiles sweetly back, patting Gruntle's arm as he offers his hand to her. For a monster-hater, she's being awfully nice to him... But you're sure it's all a sham. 

She sets two more plates out and you note that she directs Gruntle to sit in a specific seat, right across from hers. You slip into that seat silently, checking discreetly for poisoned pins in the cushion. Nothing.

You kick Gruntle under the table before he can eat, stealing a bite from his bowl, then from Mettaton's as well, and finally from your own. Your aunt laughs nervously, saying you've always suspected poison in food. (And whose fault is that, when she'd sneak experimental 'medicines' into food that made you and your cousin sick for days afterwards...). You don't drop dead right away... neither do you feel any sickness incoming, and your aunt always preferred fast-acting things. So you nod along and smile bashfully, letting the others eat.

So it's probably not poison... then she was planning instead to get close to him and hit or stab him... (possibly with a poisoned blade, you can never be too sure... and okay, maybe you're being a little paranoid, but you haven't had a lick of excitement for more than an entire week and you're frankly sick of it).

Hhh... you should probably intervene, threaten her before she decides to wait for a later date. "Aunt Nadia," You say while Mettaton is engaging Gruntle in an intense back-and-forth about the uses of recreational drugs, "I want to show you something..." You excuse yourself and your aunt by grabbing her arm and dragging her out of her seat; the two monsters ignore you.

You lead her into the hall, checking to make sure there aren't any hired assassins around. Then you draw your revolver from underneath your jacket, pushing her to the wall and showing her the gun with a vicious smile on your face. "If you even _look_ at Gruntle or _any_ of my friends the wrong way, I'll set up a case, I'll uncover all the evidence, I'll whip your ass in court so fast you won't know what hit you, _understand_??" You hiss. She looks terrified, shocked... confused. You holster your gun again; maybe you went a bit too far.

"Wha-what do you mean, Vlad..."

"My name's not _Vladimir_ , Nadia. It's Shura." You tell her with honey-coated vitriol. "I'm not a man. Papyrus is a man and I love him. Me and Mettaton are here to dethrone you, so play along like a good racist bitch and _stay out of my way_."

She shakes her head, for all the world like a lost lamb. You almost feel sorry for her. You almost regret your words. "I- You and- _him??_ " She spits, "The _skeleton??_ "

"Tell me, Nadia, what are your intentions for Gruntle??" You demand, resting your hand on the grip of your holstered gun.

"N-nothing! The- the same as I _thought_ yours were for that _freak!_ " She snarls, almost too loudly, but the argument in the other room covers it. "You weren't getting any publicity with your date, so I just thought I could- but you _lied to me!_ How exactly like the brute you are, and you thought _I_ was going to _kill_ him!" 

You shrug, since that much is true. "I'm leaving, Nadia. Don't expect support from me."

"I can make your life a living _hell_ , young man, and don't you forget it! I will tear down your reputation! You'll be hated! Nobody will give you business!" She rants.

Sighing, you glare at her sullenly. Reputation. You've lost so much already. Losing more will still hurt and possibly make you less useful to Papyrus. So you concede defeat. "Alright, fine. I'll leave you two lovebirds alone if you don't interfere with my datemate."

She huffs, still mad, and you'll be hearing about it for a while... the repercussions of this are not going to be particularly pleasant, especially if it affects your work for the Syndicate... shit... you didn't consider that before jumping into paranoia...

"I... really am sorry. What do you want to do, publicly humiliate me?? I can handle being dragged. My influence isn't totally dependent on you, anymore, Nadia..."� You lie as apologetically as a threatening bluff can be.

She smiles primly. "Yes! I know you brought a reporter, so break up with that bitch! Now! We'll see how _loyal_ your clients are to a two-faced..." She trails off, unwilling to use bad language, but you get the intent.

You shrug. The dinner was a disaster anyway, so you might as well do a bit of damage control on it. Nadia takes your arm and leads you back into the dining room, and you and her sit down at the respective seats. Civilly, you pass the salt. 

Then you say, calmly, "Mettaton, your usefulness is at an end. You may return to your job and never see me again."

"Wonderful~ although I will miss winning against you in arguments..." He purrs. "I do believe Alphys will pay you tomorrow, darling."

Nadia splutters, but that was the trial she chose and you won. She won't forgive you, she may even tear you down a bit, but not as much. Or so you hope. Nadia can be unpredictable when it comes to her wrath. You prefer the reasonable and expected danger of the Syndicate ( _Papyrus_ ) to her over-the-top explosions.

####

The repercussions hit the next day. Nadia did not hold back, made even more furious by your insolence. All the politicians who your aunt has even a slight connection with denounce you. The only influence you have left is with the police, and that had better be enough for Papyrus, since it's going to take a while to kiss up and regain some influence, especially since you're not allowed to work your regular job now... You told the police you were taking a break for a while, to recuperate.

"SO... YOU DID THE OPPOSITE OF MAKE HER SNAP... AND YOU ANTAGONIZED HER??" Papyrus doesn't seem too pleased when you report. He's also not in a good mood since _fucking Richard_ let a witness go scot free. Said fucker sobs and begs incoherently on the floor, with two newly broken legs.  

"Y-yes." You reply nervously.

" _WONDERFUL_... STRIKE ONE FOR YOUR FOOLISH PARANOIA." He holds up a finger. You almost protest but bite your tongue.

"Yes, sire..."

"TAKE THIS MISCREANT OUT OF MY SIGHT AND TELL MIZU SHE IS TO TAKE OVER THE EEL TEAM FOR THE TIME BEING." His morning chocolate milkshake sits on the table, untouched. "AND THROW THIS OUT, I DON'T WANT ANYTHING FROM _HIM._ THE IDIOT THOUGHT IT WOULD MAKE ME GO EASY ON HIM... GODDAMNED _HUMAN_ IS LUCKY THERE'S NO WINDOWS IN HERE..." He mutters.

You take it obediently and crouch to lift Richard over one shoulder. He's heavy, but you manage, dismissing yourself from Papyrus's office.

Out in the halls, the glares pierce you as the few other people in the hideout at the moment judge the scene of you being completely fine and Richard with his broken legs. You sneer back, then drop him on the floor. He cries out and you glance nervously back to the closed door of the office, but nothing happens.

"Get this bastard to a hospital. Where's Mizu?" You demand. It's been a couple weeks, and you're getting used to playing the privileged asshole who can and will tattle on anybody. You're the one who told Papyrus Richard let a witness go... you're rather proud of that, and the best part is you've already hunted down the witness and killed them (they turned out to be a Bells, too).

A fox monster steps forward, tan fur slick and her tail flicking with restrained annoyance behind her. "I am she, what is it the Boss requires?" She says in a smooth refined voice.

"He wants you to take over the Eel team." You reply, struck by self-consciousness over the rough deep sound of your own words. A couple people grab Richard and drags him away.

A small smile curls on her muzzle. "You see?" She turns with a delicate shrug to the others in the room. "Not even the pet can outweigh our Boss's common sense..."

A primal urge to punch the shit out of her rises in you, and your fists clench; the paper of the milkshake cup starts to crumple and you loosen your grip, focusing on not crushing it instead of on your anger. "Ah, yes, that old dig... But you do realize who you're insulting isn't _me..._ it's your _Boss._ "

She turns to you with a little expression of shock that changes to a wide smile. "How so?"

"You're assuming he doesn't have reason to keep me around other than- _pleasure._.. You're _assuming_ he's stupid enough to allow someone to kiss up to him. You're wrong on both counts. And I _am_ being punished. And it's more severe than you think it is, even if it's not physical _yet_..." You say proudly.

Her smile drops slightly. "Really? Do explain further..."

"I don't have to explain myself to you, only to him." You reply. "But I won't stand for him being insulted like this."

"I would never dream of insulting the boss..." She says delicately. "I will discover what you are to him, though..."

"A partner." You say simply. "A _business_ partner who fucked up. Nothing more, nothing less... why, were you jealous?" You let a small teasing smirk twist your lips.

Her fur fluffs out. "Certainly not!" She declares. "Whoever would be jealous over that-" She stops herself, suddenly looking scared.

"Well," You reply coyly, "If he _were_ interested in _another_ kind of partnership, I think I'd be jealous over him, too..." Her eyes are slightly wide as she nods along, and it's only after you finish that you realize there's a _familiar_ presence behind you... "Hello, Papyrus..." You sigh inwardly, turning and preparing for another strike to be taken away for your insolence.

" _WOULD_ YOU BE??" But he looks slightly cheered, instead. "OF- OF COURSE YOU WOULD BE!! ANYBODY WOULD BE JEALOUS OVER ME!! FOR I AM THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS, THE MAGNANIMOUS DON SUPREME!! ...NOW GET OUT THERE AND FUCK UP MY ENEMIES ALREADY INSTEAD OF BEING _CATTY_ AT EACH-OTHER!!" He snarls the order and you bow grandly to him.

"Of course, sire." His cheekbones tinge slightly pink. _Success_.

Mizu covers her muzzle and makes a soft coughing noise of disgust. "Yes, Boss." She says. "Come, Shura."

"NO FIGHTING YOUR TEAMMATES... THAT'S AN ORDER." Papyrus says as you and Mizu start down the hall.

"Yes, boss~" You sing. "Whatever you say, bo-oss~"

"UGH, METTATON WAS SUCH A BAD INFLUENCE ON YOU..." He groans in return, acting pained to the core.

"Love you too, _boss_ ~!!" You crow over your shoulder and then break into a run as he shrieks. Mizu follows close behind you, ears flattened on her head. The milkshake sploshes out of the cup, spilling everywhere.

"THAT'S RIGHT, RUN!! RUN AWAY AND DON'T SHOW YOUR FACE AGAIN!! NOT UNTIL YOU ARE READY TO GROVEL AND BEG FORGIVENESS FOR YOUR INSOLENCE!! AND THAT'S AN ORDER!"

Well, shit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Papyrus, later: WHAT IS THIS?? I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU...  
> Shura, with a mask: Hey, but I'm not showing my face...  
> Papyrus: ...BECAUSE I AM IN A GOOD MOOD, I WILL NOT REMOVE A STRIKE, BUT IN THE FUTURE, YOU WILL FOLLOW THE SPIRIT OF THE ORDER, NOT THE EXACT LETTERING... NOW GROVEL.  
> Shura, if they had a death wish: ...you only said I had to be _ready_ to grovel, not that-  
> Papyrus, probably: AAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!


	15. Author Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone,

Howdy, y'all,

Don't worry, I still plan on finishing this fic someday, I just got sidetracked with another project which became a bit closer to my heart due to the content. Working on that new fic taught me what my personal writing process should be, actually. I need to finish the first draft and then rewrite it  _before_ posting. 

Which brings us to the question. I obviously didn't do that with this fic. So would you rather I continue writing this fic how I've been doing? It won't turn out as well, in the end. Or would you rather I rewrote it all first, leaving this how it is, and  _then_ later went through and edited the new stuff in...? I think the latter might make a better story, but there might also be a higher chance of me just giving up on it, so I'm asking y'all what you'd prefer.

Also, if it's the latter, it'll have more opportunity for any criticisms/requests to be fulfilled, if anybody wants to make any ;P

Also I want to know how to do the glitchy text effect some people do for Error or MM!Gaster, the one where letters and symbols cover the text? I need it for reasons... please, if you know how, I will be forever grateful if you told me... :D


	16. Sorry, everyone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay so. this isn't a full chapter. This is just a section that I managed to finish, but I never completed the chapter. I'm sorry, but I really lost steam on this story. It's not exactly a healthy relationship, either ;P and most of it was just me having fun with tormenting the Reader character. You, my readers, are all wonderful and you deserve better :P I can never finish anything. I still say y'all should check out the work this story is based on, called "Don't Shoot The Messenger", cause it's great, and guess what, IT'S ACTUALLY FINISHED. So yeah. 
> 
> It's ever so slightly possible that I might come back to this someday, but definitely don't hold your breath, once I lose interest in something I rarely gain it back, and I tried to rewrite it but I just can't find motivation for it anymore, even though it was fun.
> 
> I've also just been going through some stuff in life and trying to figure everything out. Thanks, y'all are wonderful.

Papyrus doesn't always make it easy to obey his orders. One day it's as simple as 'GET ME A MILKSHAKE'... and then another... 'GODDAMNIT, SANS SPILLED MUSTARD ON THE TABLE AGAIN... SHURA, LICK IT UP.' ... You think he's having too much fun. You almost growl at him at the mustard incident, but his eyes narrow and he grins wickedly (he was in a good mood that day, he's usually less mischievous on his bad days... and harsher, instead).

But this... this is going too far.

He scowls expectantly at you from across the table, the cheers and hoots of Anita's audience resonating through Clover's. "WELL??" 

"No." You say firmly, not caring if he ends up removing another strike. "I'm not doing anything humiliating."

"SINGING IN FRONT OF EVERYONE IS HARDLY... WELL... I SUPPOSE FOR A COWARDLY KISS-ASS LIKE YOURSELF, IT WOULD BE..."

"If you're trying to manipulate me, it won't work." You tell him, rankled by the insults all the same.

"DO IT, OR I COUNT YOUR DEFIANCE AS A MAJOR FAILURE..." You scowl in return at him, ready to claim you don't care. "AND THEN I MIGHT HAVE YOU BE EVEN MORE HUMILIATED..."

Damn him... "Fuck you, I'll sing..." You grumble, glaring when he holds up two fingers and narrows his sockets. "Yeah, yeah."

It's partly your fault he got this idea in the first place, since you hum off-key all the time to annoy him. And he's not in a good mood today... he finally got fed up with your terrible noises and demanded you join the singing contest Anita is holding tonight.

But if he expects you to try to sing well, if he expects you to actually sing well, proving your humming is all a farce just to piss him off...

He's going to be sorely disappointed. You're a terrible singer. The noises you make are caterwauls. And you plan to milk that for all it's worth.

You get up on stage with Anita smirking to Papyrus. You glare at the two and think through your options... Ah. You know just the song. You have it memorized, even.

_~In Napoli, where love is king, when one meets another, here's what they say~_

Anita presses her hand to her mouth in amusement, eyes wide. Papyrus's scowl becomes confused. You smirk and sing (belting the words out in a cracking off-key melody) to him.

~ _When a moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that's amore~_

His eyes narrow. You continue to sing, going purposefully off-key to hide your actually terrible singing, watching his every reaction as the song progresses, until,

~ _When you dance down the street with a cloud at your feet, you're in love_ ~

And then, slowly, carefully, drawing out the melody as his cheekbones go a violent shade of red...

~ _When you walk in a dream but you know you're not dreaming signore...~_

 _~Scuzza me, but you see, back in old Napoli_ ~

~ _That's amore._ ~

~ _Amore, that's amore_...~

He stands up and stomps out as the audience hoots and applauds. You take a melodramatic bow, thanking them for putting up with your awful vocals.

Then you leap from the stage and run to catch up with him as he stomps out of the bar and down the street. "Mad?" You ask impertinently, keeping up with his long stride.

"N-NO?? WHY WOULD I BE MAD??"

You shift direction to bump into him. He stumbles unexpectedly, so you catch him by the back of his coat. "Because I took liberties?" You say.

"Y-YOU WERE MERELY TAKING REVENGE FOR... MY- MY PETTINESS." He regains his footing, shifting awkwardly with his face flushed red. "I... YOU... YOU STILL DESERVE IT, THOUGH... PUNISHMENT ISN'T SUPPOSED TO BE EASY." 

"Why didn't you??" You demand. "Why didn't you just hurt me??"

"B-BECAUSE I WAS SICK OF YOU NOT GETTING ALONG WITH MY EMPLOYEES?? AND NOT CARING ABOUT MY SYNDICATE?? AND I DID!! I THINK THIS IS MUCH HARSHER THAN THE ORIGINAL ONE!"

##TOTALLY NOT CANON##

"A-AND!! I THINK YOUR SINGING WAS AWFUL!!! BUT IT WAS CUTE. HOW YOU PROCLAIMED YOUR LOVE FOR ME. SO... I WILL FORGIVE YOU." 

"Really??" You smirk and grab him by his cravat. He blushes and it starts to rain, romantic music playing loudly from one of the tenement windows behind him. "And do you love me?" 

"O-OBVIOUSLY!!" He grumbles. his cheekbones violently red. "B-BUT IT IS FORBIDDEN!! ALAS, WE CAN NOT LOVE ONE ANOTHER!" 

"Oh?" You sidle closer. He inches towards you. "Why?"

"B-BECAUSE- BECAUSE I AM THE MAFIA BOSS. AND YOU ARE- A DETECTIVE."

"What if I wasn't?" 

"Y-YOU WHAT?" 

"What if I told you..." You run your fingers under his coat and whisper against his teeth, "I was a stripper this whole time." 

And then Papyrus kisses you and you both live happily ever after, you disgustingly goofy goobers, yes, you. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So long, and thanks for all the fish ;P

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment and/or kudos if you enjoyed it! Thank you for reading!


End file.
